Strangeways, Here We Come
by ishandtwofourths
Summary: Vignettes on the relationship between Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Chapter forty: what to expect when you're expecting... After 5 years and 40 chapters, these drabbles are now COMPLETE!
1. First Impressions

**Disclaimer**: Okay, listen carefully since I'm not going to repeat myself: the characters aren't mine! This is the house that J.K. built; I'm simply breaking in and rearranging all her carefully-placed furniture.

**Author's Notes**: I've always enjoyed reading vignettes, getting little glimpses into character's lives that don't seem to delve too deeply but always manage to say what needs to be said... And since there seem to be a plethora of random ideas in my twisted mind at any given time, I thought I'd give it a go and see what I could churn out. Well, that and drabbles are pretty much all I have time to write right now, what with my busy schedule, but the first reason sounds a lot better, eh? ;-)

Anyhoo, here they are, in no particular order… Enjoy.

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**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_First Impressions…_

He was often caught off guard by some of the questions she asked him, but he had been especially wary when she queried, "Remus, what did you think of me when we first met?"

He frowned. It certainly hadn't been one of those "love at first sight" moments that seized women's romantic sensibilities and made them swoon. He had spotted her first, from his higher vantage point of coming down the stairs – and there she had been in the hallway, rushing about like the bundle of unstoppable energy she was. His eyes had been immediately drawn to her neon pink hair, and he distinctively remembered his foremost thought being, "Good Godric, there's a flamingo loose in the house."

No, not particularly romantic at all… But then when he reached the bottom of the stairs, it had been just in time to catch her squarely in his arms when she tripped. He had felt a jolt – at the time he had explained it away as a literal one due to her slamming into him, but looking back, perhaps it had been more than that?

It may not have been the most passionate or amorous of meetings – there were no string quartets serenading them in the background, or any heavenly rays of light beaming down upon them – but it had definitely been memorable. That was what mattered in the end, he supposed.

When he recounted all this to her, she surprised him, as usual. Instead of being put off by the avian comment and lack of romance, she grinned and winked at him. "Not romantic, Remus? What do you call me falling for you, and you sweeping me off my feet?"

He blinked, and contemplated that for a moment. "Oh… Well, when you put it like that, it does sound a bit better."

"Well, it got us to where we are today – and that's what matters, doesn't it?" she pointed out, leaning in for a kiss.

"Absolutely…" he murmured, the touch of her lips making him forget about his earlier worries.

"Besides, it's a much better first meeting than some others I've heard! Did you know that Molly and Arthur met when his friends pushed him into the girls' loo?…"

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	2. Botany

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Botany…_

She knocked on his bedroom door, feeling annoying little butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Still, she put on a brave face when he answered.

"Wotcher, Remus!" she greeted him with twinkling eyes. "I've got something for you!"

He seemed surprised, if not slightly suspicious, but he smiled and gestured for her to enter.

"I've noticed that your room is rather dreary," she began. Well, the entire house was, really, but that was beside the point. "So, I've brought you something to liven the place up a bit."

She had previously offered to brighten things by charming the walls lime green, but he had politely refused. Realizing that such a quiet man was unlikely to go for something so garish (which didn't bode well for her, but she quickly banished that thought from her mind), she then came up with a more subdued idea. Or at least, as subdued as she could get...

With a flourish, she pulled a small potted cactus out from behind her back. He raised a curious eyebrow.

"I thought about getting flowers, but I didn't know what you liked," she babbled (something that tended to happen when she was nervous, and she hoped he hadn't picked up on that tendency of hers just yet), and moved to place the pot on his desk. "But then I saw this little fellow, and thought he was perfect!"

"And why's that?" he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Well, you're both dry and prickly!" she chirped, hoping he wouldn't be insulted. Instead he chortled quietly, which thrilled her.

"I'm sure we'll get along famously then. Thank you, Nymphadora."

She grinned, the relief that he enjoyed her gift overshadowing the annoyance at the use of her first name – a fact he also noted, and would later spend considerable time dissecting. Then she gasped, remembering the finishing touch. "Oh! One more thing."

Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out a tiny woollen scarf (striped scarlet and gold, reminiscent of his old Gryffindor paraphernalia) and wrapped it around the cactus' base. "There!" the witch exclaimed in delight.

"What's that for?" he wondered incredulously.

"I think it adds a whimsical touch, don't you? Besides, what's funnier than a cactus wearing a scarf?"

"Indeed… Now he won't get cold in this dreadful British weather," he said wryly.

But the sparkle in his eyes told her he appreciated the gesture, and her heart soared. She suspected she had baffled him by it, but that was all right – because from then on, whenever she caught him looking at the bundled-up plant he would always shake his head and chuckle lowly, which had been her goal. He really did need to laugh more…

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	3. Botany part II

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Botany part II…_

It took him a few weeks to work up the nerve to present her with flowers. He rationalized it by telling himself it was simply a reciprocal gesture, with no deeper meaning. Not at all. Because old werewolves shouldn't be thinking like that about young, vibrant witches…

Of course, he didn't have enough Knuts for a full meal, let alone a bouquet of flowers. What an utterly depressing thought, that he couldn't even afford a gift for the woman he fanci- er, that was, the woman he wanted to do a nice gesture for.

He worked around that obstacle rather resourcefully though, asking Molly if he could pick a few things from her gorgeous garden. Steadfastly ignoring the knowing look in her eyes, he instead tried to decide which of the countless blooms Nymphadora would like best. He settled on the pink daisies.

"Wonderful choice, Remus," the Weasley matriarch commented shrewdly. "They signify loyal love, did you know that?"

It just so happened that he did. They also meant "I'll never tell", something he tried to keep in mind. He hoped their recipient wasn't aware of their symbolism… But it wasn't like any of that had influenced his choice at all, he insisted – they were just the blossoms that seemed the most _Tonks_.

When he presented them to her, the giant grin she graced him with proved he had chosen correctly. Later, walking by the room she used when staying over at Grimmauld Place (which was more and more often now, he noted with pleasure), he saw them placed in a vase right next to her bed. He couldn't smother the smug sense of satisfaction he felt at that fact.

As time passed the blooms wilted, and he quietly replaced them. He knew she noticed, because afterwards she had winked at him and worn her hair in that exact same shade of pink. Some weeks later he did it once more, then again and again each time after that.

He wondered if their little custom had started because she was too busy or too scatterbrained to get rid of the dried, drooping flowers. He preferred not knowing the real explanation, actually, because a small part of him was entertaining wishful thoughts – such as her wanting to keep them around for the sole reason that it was he who had given them to her.

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	4. Clumsiness

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Clumsiness…_

She had always been given grief about her clumsiness, and it annoyed her to no end. After all, it wasn't like she did any of it purposely! She tried, she really did, but the shouts of "Tonks, watch out!", or "Tonks, don't touch that!", and occasionally, "Tonks, that was a priceless family heirloom!" were all too common.

Most people tittered about it good-naturedly at first, seeing her as a source of amusement, but that never lasted long. Soon there came winces and grimaces at the path of destruction she inevitably managed to leave in her wake. Fine china was hidden if she was in the house, and soon that was extended to anything glass and ceramic as well, regardless of craftsmanship or worth. Molly had even allotted her an unbreakable plastic cup to drink from, but somehow she had managed to crack that too – she had no idea _how _exactly, all she knew was that it was embarrassing to be treated like a child.

As much as it bothered others, it bothered her more. She had worked hard in attempts to become graceful, but it simply hadn't stuck. It wasn't like she _enjoyed_ being a walking disaster, or having people inevitably shift from laughing with her to laughing at her…

But things changed when she met him. She thought that surely her childish antics (no matter how unintentional) would repel the dignified professor, but by some miracle they hadn't. Instead, he seemed to smile every time her inelegance reared its ugly head, as if he thought it… adorable? She had waited for the entertainment value to wear off and for the annoyance to begin, but it never had. That amazed her.

Instead of snickering or chastising her, he always took the time to help her up, asking if she was alright. Nobody else ever did that anymore, probably assuming that by now she was immune to bumps and bruises. If she hadn't already noticed his politeness and attractiveness and all-around wonderfulness then that certainly would have opened her eyes.

What she _did_ notice was how strong he was and how good he smelled when he caught her in his arms after tripping. In fact, she rather liked that position, it becoming familiar after a few more saves. He _always_ managed to sweep her up whenever she stumbled in his vicinity – soon her devious mind led her to be even clumsier around him.

Okay, so maybe she did _some_ of it purposely…

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	5. Discoveries

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Discoveries…_

Throughout the years he had spent a lot of time trying to convince himself that people cared about him, despite his status as a dark creature. His heart knew that Sirius, the Weasleys and Harry were like family and wouldn't abandon him, but practically a whole lifetime as a werewolf had exposed him to so much prejudice and bigotry that sometimes he found himself utterly surprised when people stood by him.

He was far more used to reactions of fear and disgust – and he was ashamed to say that at first he thought Nymphadora would be lumped in with that group. It was nothing specific to her, of course – it was just that throughout his life a precedent had been set. However, after he was exposed to her sunny disposition and open attitude more he found that sort of outcome increasingly unlikely.

Still, he had hoped to have more time with her before she found out about his furry little problem – that would let her see he really was just a mild-mannered gentleman, one completely different from most werewolf stereotypes. Unfortunately, things hardly ever worked out the way he wished them to.

When the full moon rolled around he locked himself into the heavily warded library. Sirius was downstairs entertaining the Weasleys, and had insisted that if he wasn't going to be there to keep Moony company then he should at least be comfortable. Yes, the library with its roaring fireplace and plush rugs would be cosier than the cold and draughty attic, but Remus worried that people would be more liable to walk in.

"You worry too much," Sirius had scoffed. "You've taken your Wolfsbane, so it doesn't really matter, does it? Besides, everybody knows better than to go in there."

Yes, everybody did know… Except Nymphadora, who came to the house after her guard shift that night. When he heard somebody attempting to open the door, his head shot up from where he'd curled up beside the fire. His heightened senses picked up her scent (an intriguing blend of citrus and cinnamon), and his heart sunk. He would have welcomed _anybody_ but her!

"Bloody hell, who locked this door?" he made out her grumble, before she performed a series of counter-spells to open it. He should have known that a few simple wards wouldn't keep out an Auror… And now it was only a matter of seconds until she found out what he was.

He warily watched her stumble inside, a bit of cocoa sloshing over the side of the mug she held before she dropped onto the settee. Without a further glance about the room, she pulled out a book and began to read.

She hadn't noticed him? He briefly contemplated sneaking over and hiding behind the furniture, but the next second she looked up and her eyes (currently blue) met his amber ones.

There it was – the dropping of a jaw, the sharp intake of breath. He expected her to run screaming from the room any second now. Or perhaps worse, pretend that everything was fine but then slowly start to distance herself from him.

To his complete and utter surprise, she only quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. "Remus?" she asked, and not even in a horrified way. He wondered how she knew it was him, but then the witch exclaimed, "Oh bugger, I can't believe I forgot it was a full moon tonight!"

She had been aware of what he was? But she hadn't breathed a word! Now his jaw was the one to drop. Still, that didn't necessarily mean anything – he was still fatalistically anticipating shrieks of terror, but she only grinned sheepishly. "Sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to read in front of the fire… Mind if I join you?"

He blinked. Did she really just ask that? It took a few moments to sink in, but he eventually managed to shake his head. Frankly, he was too surprised to do anything else – this sort of scenario was entirely new to him.

"Lovely!" she chirped, tripping on her way over to plop down right beside him. As if that wasn't enough of a shock, she absentmindedly began stroking behind his ears while chattering away about her day.

The pleasure resulting from her rubbing fingers chased all rational thought from his mind, but he still managed to come to a realization. It was funny, he reflected; he spent so much time trying to convince himself that people cared, yet it was somebody not caring that made all the difference.

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	6. Crosswords

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Crosswords…_

Arriving at the table for breakfast, she bade everyone a good morning – taking care to catch Remus' eye and smile in his direction. A sly grin crossed Sirius' face at that, and a feeling of unease abruptly blossomed in Tonks' stomach. Oh dear, that undoubtedly meant he was up to something…

She suddenly began to regret swiping the last of Sirius' Firewhiskey the previous night. Her roguish cousin had become much testier lately (probably due to cabin fever), and no doubt relished the opportunity for a bit of mischief. Or, that was what she told herself – she'd rather he had an actual _reason_ for causing mayhem. At least when it affected her!

She worriedly took a bite of the delicious omelette Molly set in front of her, but by then his attention was engrossed in the Daily Prophet. She thought perhaps Moody's paranoia was finally rubbing off on her, but then Sirius unexpectedly asked, "What's a word for 'a lover's secret meeting'?"

The witch nearly choked on her toast. "What?"

He looked at her innocently, long ago having adapted Snuffles' puppy-dog eyes for use in human form. "A five-letter word for a lover's meeting. I'm doing the crossword."

"Oh," she said, but still looked at him rather suspiciously.

Remus did as well, but then quietly answered, "It's a tryst."

"Right, of course!" Sirius exclaimed happily, his quill scratching away at the parchment. "Thanks, mate."

The question did nothing to interrupt the chatter of the room, which continued unimpeded until a few minutes later when he queried once more. "Anybody know a five-letter 'minor divinity' ending in a 'ph'?"

Tonks' head shot up to glare at the man, but Hermione had overheard, and piped in before she could say anything. "A nymph!"

"Ah yes, of course," Sirius grinned. "What about 'a purple-blue flower', starting with an 'l'?"

"A lupine, dear," Molly responded from over his shoulder, shovelling some more bacon onto his plate. "I've got some in the garden, they're quite lovely."

Glancing over at Remus, Tonks could see him shifting in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. There was no way all these clues were a coincidence – her cousin was toying with them! "I thought you were good at crossword puzzles, Padfoot," he mentioned to his friend in a pointed manner.

"Yes, well, I've been out of practise," came the flippant and utterly unrepentant reply. "Now, how about 'canine infatuation', two words?"

"Puppy love!" Fred and George shouted simultaneously, apparently the entire table now becoming involved in solving the puzzle.

By then she'd had enough. They had yet to connect all of his hints together, but it was only a matter of time – Sirius wasn't known for his subtlety, and she was loathe to find out what else he could come up with. Besides, poor Remus was now struggling not to blush, and even though she thought he looked adorable, Tonks figured she ought to help him out.

Getting up, the Auror walked over to the counter and poured herself some more tea. Then on the way back to her seat, she _accidentally_ stumbled, just _happening _to spill her drink on Sirius' lap. It certainly was a morning for coincidences! She almost felt bad for him as he jumped up in shock and pain, but then decided he deserved it; besides, the tea was nowhere near as hot as it could have been. "Oh, bloody hell! Sorry about that," she apologized, doing her best to sound sincere. "Here, let me take that before it gets wet too." With that, she snatched the crossword from his hand as he flailed around.

Things settled back down after Sirius dried himself off and everybody stopped laughing; then Remus shot her a grin, knowing exactly what she had done. She returned it, but it slid off her face when she read over the puzzle she held. "Unbelievable… All those clues were actually on here?" It really was a morning for coincidences then. That, or fate.

"Of course!" Sirius laughed, cocking an eyebrow smugly. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Bugger, now the kids were all looking at her curiously, waiting for an answer. What could she say? "Oh, no reason," she shrugged casually, deciding to go with the classic brush-off approach. Then she beamed as another wonderful coincidence caught her eye. "Sirius, you should know this one – what's a three-letter word for a 'morally reprehensible man' beginning with a 'd'?"

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	7. Strategy

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Strategy…_

"Remus?" he heard her voice ask, and then felt the all too familiar jolt in his stomach.

Glancing up from where he sat reading in front of the fireplace, he saw Tonks standing by the chess sets Ron and Sirius had been battling with earlier. "Yes?"

"I was wondering…" she began shyly (Nymphadora, shy?), "Would you teach me how to play Wizard's Chess?"

"You'd like me to teach you?" he repeated dumbly, a bit surprised. There were better players in the house, but a small voice in the back of his head quickly urged him to agree instead of recommending she ask somebody else.

Sitting across from her, he explained the purpose of the game. Then he lifted and repositioned each piece to demonstrate the moves they could make, ignoring their indignant protests at being manhandled ("Oi! Gerroff me!"). He tried to suppress his pleasure at having the young witch hang on to his every word, watching him intently.

They played their first game, and even though she was unsure at first ("Oh bugger, the rooks can't move diagonally, can they?"), she picked it up quite quickly. He still won, despite Ron's temperamental set, but he felt a teacher's delight in knowing that his pupil had learned something. Or perhaps it was a different sort of delight, because that of a teacher would have been rather improper – especially when she had asked, "Shall we give it another go tomorrow night, then?"

He should have politely declined, or made up some excuse – after all, more time around her certainly wouldn't help expel her from his mind! And yet he found himself spending almost every evening that week with her, playing games that lasted longer and longer as she grew better and better. As they went on later into the night he realized they were depriving him of his sleep, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind – especially since they provided a prime opportunity to watch her as she mulled over her moves, never noticing his eyes on her. He never noticed hers on him either…

Then one morning, after a particularly long match, he uncharacteristically brewed some coffee with his breakfast.

"What's that, Moony?" Sirius asked incredulously, oddly perceptive for such an early hour. "Not indulging in your compulsive tea drinking?"

"Don't worry, I haven't given it up," Remus replied, stifling a yawn. "I just need an extra jolt of caffeine, I think. I've been teaching Tonks to play chess, and she's gotten rather good – our game lasted for hours last night."

A confused look came over the other man's face before it swiftly slid into a sly grin.

"What?" he wondered curiously.

"Oh, nothing," Sirius chuckled. "Just that Tonks is practically a master at chess – she was able to beat me back when I babysat her, and could probably wallop you in about five minutes flat! If she really _tried_, that is."

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,

- ish -


	8. Tea

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Tea…_

Opening the cupboard door, she saw countless boxes of tea sitting on the shelf. She had to grin at the sight – members of the Order had important things in common, such as the desire to fight the good fight, but when it came to agreeing on what to drink then they truly showed their differences.

Throughout all the meetings and breakfasts and chats she'd sat through at Number Twelve, she'd managed to learn how each and every person in the house took their tea. In fact, she'd even developed theories about their choices – she was sure that one's preference corresponded to their personality.

The English Breakfast was Molly's, and that didn't surprise her – a brisk start to the day was needed if one was to deal with the entire Weasley brood, and the strength of its flavour was definitely a parallel to the woman's energy. Arthur drank it as well, which Tonks thought was sweet; yet another way in which the two were a united front.

Ginny didn't fall into the Weasley beverage mould, preferring green tea instead. That made sense – it seemed very Zen, and she was certainly the most calm and collected of the bunch. Hermione drank it as well, having researched some facts about its vitamin content and antioxidants, but nobody had really been able to follow all that.

The Irish Breakfast belonged to Mundungus, who insisted that his tea had to be "strong enough for a Jarvey to trot on." Of course, that strength was probably helped along by the whiskey he added. She suspected that was the only reason Sirius occasionally dragged himself downstairs at sunup, because he was neither a morning person nor a big tea drinker.

She herself had begun to prefer fruit teas, be they raspberry, strawberry, or peach. Analyzing one's self was always more difficult than analyzing others, but she supposed it was due to all the seriousness in the world lately – what better way to unwind than with a warm cup of delicious flavour? Remus had his own opinion on her tastes. "Merlin, how much sugar did you put in that!" he had exclaimed after stealing a sip. "Is it your tea that makes you so sweet?"

She blushed as she recalled his flirtatious words, but then remembered what she was there for. Grabbing the Earl Grey, she set about boiling the water and preparing a cuppa. It took her longer than usual because she moved with painstaking precision, determined not to spill, drop, or break anything. Surprisingly there were no accidents, not even on her way up the stairs and into Remus' room.

He lay in bed recuperating from the full moon, but he still managed to sit up and take the cup from her with a smile. "Thank you, Nymphadora."

He looked dead handsome, as always, but quite peaky. Her first instinct was to tuck him in and insist he rest (had spending so much time with Molly passed on the woman's mothering urge?), but then she realized he might see that as an act of pity, or emasculation. That was the last thing she wanted, so she forced herself to reply as she usually did. "It's Tonks, Remus!"

He rolled his eyes and took a sip while she watched him, and her thoughts returned to her correlations between tea and personality. He drank his without milk or sugar or honey or cream – she might have thought the strong taste was his way of reaching the parts of himself that he kept closed off to others, or some pretentious explanation like that… But she knew better. The truth was that he had gotten accustomed to taking it so, which stemmed from often not being able to afford such commodities.

Perhaps that was what spoke about his personality most of all – the fact that he still persevered, even after bitterly tasting his poverty every day.

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Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	9. Pyjamas

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Pyjamas…_

He had never thought it possible, but insomnia had its benefits – namely running into one Nymphadora Tonks in the Grimmauld Place kitchen during the middle of the night. The first incident had been due to him exercising constant vigilance, investigating the sound of glass shattering; he should have known it would be an endearingly clumsy Auror craving a midnight cocoa before she went to bed. They shared a whispered discussion over steaming mugs (because somehow it just seemed necessary to whisper during the wee hours, even though nobody upstairs could possibly hear them), and after that he had actually managed to fall asleep quite easily.

It quickly became a regular occurrence, their drinks and dialogue occurring whenever she stayed over. He always looked forward to it, but if his denials and rationalizations were stripped away, he ashamedly had to admit that having a droll conversation partner wasn't the only reason for that. What kept luring him back (despite his logical side warning him off) were her pyjamas.

She had so many different ensembles that it boggled the mind. While he always wore the same threadbare blue flannels (they certainly were comfortable though), she had stripes and polka dots and patterns of brooms and rabbits… Sometimes they were matching sets, sometimes they were oversized pullovers thrown on top of sweatpants; it didn't matter, because they all made her look adorable. …And made him feel rather like a lecherous old man. Every time he descended the stairs he wondered what she would be wearing that night, and chastised himself for it.

The situation grew even worse (or better, depending on which voice in his head he was listening to – his conscience or his lust) when there came a bout of unusually scorching weather, prompting Tonks to don low-cut camisoles and tiny shorts. He shouldn't have asked her about it, because it probably alerted her to the fact that he was indeed ogling her shamelessly, but he honestly couldn't prompt his mind to come up with anything else – it was _far_ too distracted by her beguiling sleepwear.

"Nymphadora, why on earth do you have so many different pairs of pyjamas?" he wondered.

"Don't rightly know," she smiled and shrugged, obviously not finding the question too peculiar. "No real reason, I suppose… Every time I go shopping something else strikes my fancy and I end up buying it, and why not switch them up every so often?"

That was probably the philosophy she applied to her hair colour as well, he mused.

"But I honestly don't think I have _too_ many," she continued, getting up to place her mug in the sink (stumbling slightly, of course). "At least, not summery ones."

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "No? And why is that?"

On her way out of the kitchen she shot him a cheeky wink, and he nearly spit out his cocoa when she said, "Well, Remus, when it's really hot out I like to sleep starkers."

He hadn't been able to fall asleep after that.

* * *

Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	10. Triskaidekaphobia

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Triskaidekaphobia…_

He had never been one for Arithmancy, but lately he had been giving it more thought. Some would say _too much_ thought, actually… Not about numerology in general, of course, because the subject honestly didn't interest him that much. No, rather it was about one specific numeral.

Thirteen held such negative connotations, and he had always thought it rather curious. From what little he knew about Muggle religions, there were thirteen diners at Jesus' last supper, and his betrayer was the thirteenth to sit down. Satan was the thirteenth angel, and the mischievous Loki was the thirteenth god in the Norse pantheon. It was one more than the "holy" number of twelve, the number of months in a year or hours on the clock.

Perhaps it didn't have the mystical properties that digits such as three or seven possessed, but it had power in its own right – perhaps even more so, judging by the great lengths many went to avoid it. He found it interesting to see how the mythos influenced people – some buildings skipped the thirteenth floor, house numbers jumped over it, and some poor souls even refused to leave their homes on Friday the thirteenth. Even though he didn't adhere to those particular superstitions, in a way he was fearful as well – thirteen was also called the moon number, with the moon moving approximately thirteen degrees a day, bringing about thirteen lunar months per year.

The moon haunted him, but he always focused on one transformation at a time – perhaps that was why a hatred of the number had never emerged? How ironic then that a seemingly joyous event, namely the birthday of one Nymphadora Tonks, had instilled that loathing in him.

He had been keeping an ear open for hints as to her birth date for some time before then, wanting to know her age but thinking it rude to ask (one never questioned a lady about her age, after all). Also, that would have been much too obvious, alluding to his entirely inappropriate feelings. Yes, he had known they were improper right from the start, but it had all seemed so much worse after counting the candles on the cake Molly had baked and realizing the total amount of years that truly lay between them.

Thirteen, to be exact.

He had never despised a number more. Now it wasn't just some silly superstition, it was an irrefutable fact. He couldn't break it down into smaller, more manageable units; it was the sum of its parts. Even worse was knowing it would never get any smaller…

* * *

Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	11. Practise

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Practise…_

She'd never been particularly good with words – that fact had never been clearer to her, as she paced the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, trying to figure out what to say. Eloquence was more his gift, which was one of the multitude of reasons why she liked him. Speaking of, that reminded her of why she was there in the first place, and she decided to finally just blurt it out.

"Look, here's the thing. I… I fancy you. Quite a lot, actually."

She watched as his eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he placed his mug down on the table. "Oh," was all he said, appearing rather startled.

"Oh?" she echoed back, a sinking feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach. She knew it, he didn't feel the same way…

"I'm sorry, you just caught me off guard," he began slowly, and she could see his forehead crinkle in that adorable way it tended to when he was contemplative (No, not adorable! She didn't want to be thinking like that if he was about to reject her, the prat!). He looked at her regretfully and quietly said, "I certainly wasn't expecting this… I can't possibly convey how sorry I am for giving you the wrong impression. Do I really need to explain why anything between us would be futile?"

Her jaw dropped, and indignation began to swell inside of her. "Why yes, I think you should!" He would have to come up with some damn good reasons!

"It's just that…" Here he broke off and sighed achingly, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm in love with Sirius."

She nearly choked. "Sirius!"

"What?"

"I can't believe you're teasing me like this!" Tonks shouted, striding forward and swatting the man on the back of his head.

"Oi, what was that for?" Sirius whined, rubbing the point of impact. "You asked me to play out the worst-case scenario, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it has to be realistic!" she pointed out, throwing herself into the seat opposite her infuriating cousin. "You and I both know he would never say that."

"No? I'll have you know I'm a perfectly appealing prospect!" the man told her haughtily, before dissolving into a grin. "Oh, just relax, Tonskie – I'm only having a spot of fun. Anyway, you really don't need to rehearse your little confession at all. Moony's been …well, _mooning_ over you even more than you have over him!"

She rolled her eyes disbelievingly. "And just how do you know that?"

Sirius smirked shrewdly. "Who do you think's been playing the role of Nymphadora Tonks when Remus practises revealing _his_ feelings?"

* * *

Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	12. Subtlety

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Subtlety…_

There was nothing subtle about Nymphadora Tonks, whether it concerned her colourful appearance, her clumsy entrances into rooms, or the manner in which she had cheerfully bashed her way into his life.

However, now that Sirius had informed her of his feelings, Remus was sure he would witness a change in her. He wanted to believe the best of her, but it had occurred before, more times than he could count – somebody making excuses, slowly distancing themselves from him… He wouldn't blame her – after all, an old, poor, and dangerous werewolf having feelings for a young, gorgeous Auror? It was laughable, really.

Of course, he harboured delusions that she felt the same way. There had been instances of her glancing at him just so, or certain things she said… But surely he had only been seeing what he had wanted to see. False hope, made all the more wretched and painful by knowing it simply _had_ to be false.

He had taken to dodging her lately. Some Gryffindor he was! It was cowardly, he knew, but for the best. Surely they _both_ wanted to stave off the awkwardness that would no doubt arise?

"You've been avoiding me."

He spun around, spotting her in the doorway to his room. "Tonks! You startled me, I didn't see you there." What was she doing? He couldn't begin to fathom why she would willingly seek him out.

"I _can_ be stealthy and secretive, you know," she informed him with a nervous half-smile. "It doesn't happen often, mind you, but it can be done."

Secretive? What did she have to be secretive about? She wore her feelings on her sleeve… As he contemplated this, she continued, "I was hoping we could talk."

"What? Why?" he uttered in surprise. Then he reminded himself once more that she was far from subtle; she wouldn't want to tiptoe around the issue, she would confront it head on. Or trip over it…

"Well, after what Sirius said, I think it's about time we cleared things up, eh?" she suggested – quite anxiously, he thought, but he didn't detect any disgust or pity. How odd.

"Yes, well, I usually find it best to ignore whatever advice he gives," Remus tried to say casually. Perhaps it could all be construed as some sort of misunderstanding?

Tonks chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Oh, I know. After all, nothing could be more wrong than him portraying you as gay!"

His jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" he asked indignantly.

She kept chattering away over his irritation. "Not that I believed him, of course! Although I have to admit that I _did_ wonder for a _bit_, what with you seemingly ignoring all my hints… But Sirius said you could be a tad slow on the uptake sometimes."

He waved his hands in a halting gesture, unable to follow. "What on earth are you talking about? Hints? What hints? And why would he say I was… Wait, he was _portraying_ me as gay? Whatever do you mean?"

The Metamorphmagus propped a hand on her hip and quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Well, he was right about one thing, at least – you _can_ be a bit slow."

Teasing was all well and good, especially considering he had expected a much more unpleasant confrontation, but he was simply too lost to feel relieved. "Stop for a moment, please," he requested, attempting to make sense of things. "What _exactly_ did Sirius tell you?"

"That you were practising confessing your feelings towards me," she stated matter-of-factly. "Were you?"

How could she voice that so straightforwardly while he was blushing madly? His reddened cheeks already revealed his answer, but he reluctantly nodded anyway.

"Oh, good," Tonks sighed (in relief?). "Nice to know I wasn't the only one making a fool of myself!"

He froze right then. "Pardon?"

"I blame you, you know!" she continued, wagging a finger at him – though despite there being frustration in her voice, she was smiling. "I assumed I was as obvious as a giant in a tutu, but you didn't do anything, so I thought it time for more decisive action. I'm not very patient, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Nymphadora…" he slowly breathed, valiantly trying not to get ahead of himself. "Precisely when did Sirius tell you these things?"

"While _I_ was rehearsing confessing my feelings to _you_."

He was fairly certain his heart stopped at that moment. Padfoot had certainly failed to mention _that_ vital piece of information… The shock must have shown on his face, for the witch looked up at him and grinned. "Why Remus, you _are_ rather daft sometimes, aren't you? Don't tell me all those clues I dropped were missed!"

Somehow they must have been… Had he been searching for evidence as to her affections for so long that he had overlooked them staring him right in the face?

He was too stunned to speak, and she just laughed as she stepped towards him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket in her fists. "Maybe I should have been even more obvious then. Subtlety is overrated, isn't it?"

And then she stood on her tiptoes to gently brush her lips against his. Before the ability for rational thought was driven from his mind, Remus had time to be glad there was nothing at all subtle about Nymphadora Tonks.

* * *

Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	13. Doodles

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Doodles…_

She dragged the tip of her quill along the parchment, the purple ink leaving sketches and squiggles as she mindlessly hummed a Weird Sisters tune. The work she was supposed to be doing was frightfully boring (honestly, she was a fully trained Auror with messy handwriting – why relegate the paperwork to her?), and she simply couldn't concentrate on it. Instead she filled the blank page with scrawled artwork in her reverie.

Halfway through drawing a smiley face, Remus entered the kitchen and jolted her back to attention. Quickly straightening up, she knocked over a mug full of tea in the process, the lukewarm liquid spilling out all over the table and her notes.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she cursed, searching for a dishrag.

"Allow me," the man offered courteously, waving his wand and easily vanishing the mess. Then he began to reach for the parchment and asked, "Would you like me to perform a drying charm on those?"

"No!" she cried, lunging across the table in a surprisingly graceful feat of acrobatics and covering them with her hands.

He stared at her in bewilderment. "I assure you, I can do the charm quite well – they won't be set on fire, or otherwise be ruined."

"I know, of course not," she quickly tried to reassure him with a sheepish grin. "_I'm_ the one who would probably set them on fire. It's just that… Well… Oh, bugger, I just didn't want you to see what I was doing."

He quirked a brow and his mouth slowly began to spread into a grin. "Hmm, top-secret Auror information, then?"

"Um, not exactly…" The newness of their relationship was that where they still coyly tried to impress each other, and she doubted that childishly daydreaming when she should have been working would further that goal!

Looking down at the edges that her small hands weren't covering, he could make out a few flowers and random scribbles. "Ah, doodling, were you?"

"…Yes," Tonks admitted, her face reddening slightly at the unprofessional impression was she making.

"You know," Remus began thoughtfully, moving to sit down beside her. "They say the types of doodles drawn can be interpreted to analyze a person."

"Really?" she blinked, and then took in his kind smile. Feeling slightly better about him finding her with her head in the clouds, the witch then chuckled. "That sounds like something Trelawney would come up with, doesn't it?"

"That's what I thought at first…" Peering at the parchment once again, he smirked and continued, "But the concept has grown on me. Look, it seems to apply to you – flowers indicate a desire to blossom in life, and stars are often drawn by the irrepressibly romantic…"

She followed his gaze and saw those very things, and her curiosity was peaked. "What else?"

"Let's see – I believe dots are signs of a fragmented personality, while arrows indicate the aggressively ambitious," he explained, but then paused a bit before saying, "And lips usually point to a frustrated sexual desire of some kind…"

Tonks laughed in delight, winking at him cheekily. "Well, none of those for me – I'm _far_ from sexually frustrated," she replied pointedly.

"Well, that's good to know," he murmured while valiantly attempting to suppress the flush to his cheeks – in the end he couldn't, and beamed bashfully at her compliment.

Oh, he was too adorable when he blushed! Perhaps she could make it happen again? Tapping a finger on her chin thoughtfully, she mused, "Well, Professor, perhaps this idea has some merit… How would you analyze this, then?"

She proceeded to hand him the sheet of parchment she had so hastily covered up. Hearts, stars, and flowers surrounded the largely embellished letters that lay in the middle of the page, spelling out NT+RL.

* * *

Please review, I'd love to know what you think about it! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	14. Routine

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Routine…_

He was a man of routine – he had been for a long time, and imagined he probably would be for a long time to come. A part of it stemmed from necessity, what with the strict regimen of Wolfsbane potion that had to be administered at certain times for the appropriate effect; however, he found he liked stability during the rest of the month as well.

Sirius poked fun at him endlessly, saying he was dull enough to rival a History of Magic lecture with Professor Binns, but Remus enjoyed the constancy in his day to day activities. Wake up, take toast and tea, read _the Daily Prophet_, work on the Order duties that needed to be done, have some more tea whilst reading whichever book he happened to be happily ensconced in at the time…

Whenever Padfoot mocked him, he simply retorted that his missions were rife with danger and that was enough for him; surely returning to structure after harrowing and death defying escapades could be appreciated?

Moreover, in a way it also made things easier – it meant there were fewer surprises, fewer unexpected issues to deal with. The worst moments of his meagre existence had occurred when he'd been caught unawares, from being bitten as a boy to that tragic Halloween night so many years ago. He knew it was impossible to change those events, and that wasn't his aim – but at least he could have some comfort and reassurance for the future with the predictability he managed to arrange for himself.

Yet there were only so many things that could be predicted, and Tonks stumbling (quite literally) into his life and turning his well-worn routine on its head apparently hadn't been one of them.

Ever since that first meeting, she had thrown things off – whether it was joining him for tea or engaging him in cheery discussion or dragging him off with no specific purpose or destination in mind, she hadn't let him remain mired in his carefully crafted conduct.

Of course, that wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy it. In fact, it brought about a whole new habit for him, one that had been missing from his life without him even being aware of it: that of smiling freely, laughing unrestrainedly, and unabashedly enjoying himself. It took him much too long to realize it, and even longer to finally admit it to himself, but Remus eventually recognized that having Nymphadora Tonks right there beside him every day was the only routine he needed.

* * *

Would anybody like a nice, warm cup of reviews? I know I would! ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	15. Mirrors

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Mirrors…_

Tonks' mind often wandered, but more so whenever she lay in bed without his tantalizing (albeit tentative) touch to distract her. Usually it pondered pointless and quirky things; one example was her current focus on the full-length mirror hanging next to the closet.

She wondered what mirrors would think, seeing somebody every day. They would always reflect the same person's image, but with slight differences as they grew and changed. It would be interesting to witness such progressions over time… Naturally, some people would change quicker than others, and she thought about the glass hanging back in the bathroom of her own flat. It saw a different version of her with every morph she made, yet it always knew it was her. 

At least her mirror was good-natured about it, even going so far as to suggest hair colours. Others, like the Noble and Most Ancient Mirror of Black on the wall there, were decidedly less pleasant. With its snide comments, it was no wonder Remus exerted a great deal of effort to avoid catching a glimpse of himself in it. At least, that was what she had initially assumed.

It hadn't been hard to notice his averted eyes or turned back whenever he moved past it. She had jokingly considered him being a vampire instead of a werewolf – but with that musing, the pieces fell into place. It seemed that like everything else in his life, it traced back to his lycanthropy. It had been difficult to grasp at first, since she relished every opportunity to shamelessly ogle his body; it was sobering when she realized that he clearly didn't find himself anywhere near as handsome as she did.

She knew he hated his scars, everlasting evidence of his curse that couldn't be cured or charmed away. They could be covered, but for him his tattered clothes and robes were just further reminders of his impoverished condition; the only thing he could do was try not to think about it, and thus he avoided looking at himself. No matter her reassurances that patches and scratches didn't matter, he insisted on being a man without a reflection.

Jolting back to reality and away from her contemplations, Tonks watched him walk over to his desk, his eyes purposely set on the floor and his path as far away from the looking glass as possible. She wished he could see himself like she saw him: charming, dashing, gentlemanly and sexy, despite his scars and even _because_ of them. It was a shame mirrors didn't work that way…

And that prompted an idea to blossom in her mind. As soon as she could wrench herself away from his cosy bed and warm body, she set off to her task. It required a few hours of scouring through musty books and several failed endeavours when practising the spell, but she finally managed to bring her scheme to fruition.

It was some time before it was noticed, however, and Tonks certainly wasn't the most patient of witches. Still, she thought it all worthwhile, as the next time Remus glanced in his mirror he nearly had a heart attack when it wolf-whistled at him and cooed, "The Professor gets top marks – but bonus points if he takes off his shirt!"

He had blushed, stuttered, and begged for her to remove the charm – but she knew better. He probably could have easily done it himself if he had really wanted to, and she certainly didn't miss his futile attempts at suppressing a smile whenever he passed by and heard its seductive compliments. It took quite a while, but she caught him standing before the mirror more and more often, actually chuckling at the creative new praise spoken each time (from "Those pants look uncomfortable; perhaps you should take them off?" to "My, what big… _feet_ you have!").

She couldn't have been happier with him more accepting of setting eyes on his body; and of course, an added bonus was that he sometimes took the mirror's suggestions to heart… Now, if only it would stop coming up with better lines than she could!

* * *

Will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror if you don't leave me a review? ;-) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	16. Chocolate

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Chocolate…_

His eyelids felt like lead weights, but he managed to force them open. Sharp, blinding light assaulted his vision, adding to the pain from his excruciating headache and sore joints. Waking after a transformation was never pleasant… But it could have been worse.

If he focused his attention past the aches in his body, he could sense himself lying on his mattress, snugly tucked in underneath the blankets. Despite feeling like he had fallen off a broomstick and hit every branch of a Whomping Willow on the way down to the ground, Remus couldn't stop a smile from forming. He was, of course, thinking on the person who had helped him into bed and ensured he was warm and comfortable (and trying his best to ignore the fact that she had to see him in such a helpless state).

She would have gone to work by now, but his bleary eyesight could make out the Honeyduke's chocolate she had left on the nightstand. Even his face hurt, but still he grinned, fragmented thoughts of chocolate and Nymphadora melting together in his currently foggy mind.

He knew that when they first met she had wondered about his addiction; it wasn't surprising, since he always carried around at least one bar with him at all times. He fondly recalled her initial query about it, her tongue apparently as clumsy as the rest of her as she asked whether he knew chocolate was an aphrodisiac. She immediately flushed and furiously apologized, but he had just laughed; perhaps that was the instant he had shattered her perceptions of him as a stuffy and serious professor? He liked to think so, since chocolate seemed to play an important role in their relationship: they bonded over shared hot cocoa, they exchanged huge slabs at Christmas, she brought him some following full moons even before she had become more involved in caring for him afterwards…

He wasn't sure if chocolate was toxic to wolves, but it was to other canines – something Padfoot could testify to, having once devoured an army of Chocolate Frogs and subsequently finding himself sick as a… well, dog. That worry prevented him from ever wolfing any down while transformed, but he found it rather ironic that the very food that could possibly kill him then made him feel so much better the next morning.

A post-moon dessert was the only thing Lupin had the energy for, which Tonks quickly picked up on. She made sure he was never without his favourite remedy, and he adored her for her thoughtfulness.

Once he had teasingly told her she was even sweeter than the chocolate; she had giggled, thinking he was only flattering her. However, he had been completely truthful – after all, she constantly ate it as well, so its flavour combined with her naturally delectable taste to make her all the more irresistible to him.

Perhaps that was why his cravings to see her, to smell her, to touch and taste her, became stronger and stronger? His yearnings for chocolate had combined with his desire for the vivacious, colourful Auror and created a whole new sort of addiction – but like the other, it certainly wasn't one he was looking to break.

The wizard was then jolted from his reverie by a sudden smarting. Compelling himself to lift his arm and reach for the block Tonks had left him, he slowly snapped off a piece and let it melt in his mouth. Almost immediately he felt a soothing, warming sensation course through him… There was almost no better relief than that.

Well, except for one thing he could think of – and Remus couldn't stop his mind from drifting off once more and reminiscing about the chocolate body paint Nymphadora had discovered…

* * *

Mmm, I could sure go for a chocolate-covered Remus right about now… But reviews would be good too. ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	17. Reading

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Reading…_

She loved her morphing abilities, she really did. They let her alter her body's colour, shape and size, which aside from helping to make her unique and open up opportunities, was just plain _fun_. She'd never had the longest attention span, so the capability to continuously change her appearance was quite a handy gift.

That made her seem flighty, however – and often she was, but some things she took very seriously. She would transform the way she looked, but never who she _was_. As soon as she heard a man say, "Hey Tonks, why don't you slim down those hips a tad?" or "Tonks, I think that shirt would look better with a larger cup size", she would walk out the door (after slamming it for good measure).

But then she met Remus, and for the first time she wanted to change herself for a man. How ironic that this time it was impossible, given that morphing into non-living things couldn't be done – and that was unfortunate, because she had felt the bizarre yearning to be a book.

Could anybody really blame her? Ever since she had begun observing him in the Grimmauld Place library, she found herself jealous of the way he tenderly treated his tomes. Her eyes had been riveted as he slowly trailed his long fingers down their spines, softly stroking the yellowing pages, inhaling their musky aromas… It always led her to terribly naughty thoughts – if he was that gentle and reverent with the inanimate objects he cherished, how attentive must he be as a lover?

She had been surprised the texts didn't burst into flames from the intensity of her green-eyed glares directed at them. It was undoubtedly daft to feel such envy for _books_ of all things, but she simply hadn't been able to stop her mind from running away with her, picturing her own body studied by those wonderfully agile hands of his…

A rather amusing thought had entered her head one night, to merely morph some poetry and prose onto her skin and have him read that (and more), but perhaps that would have been a bit forward. She hadn't wanted to give the man a heart attack, after all (not that she thought him old, of course!).

Luckily she was eventually able to stop her imagining, and experienced the real thing instead. When he was tangled up with her, his head burrowed in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent more deeply than he ever had with the musty parchment. Using those long fingers in sinful ways, his hands traced teasingly up and down her spine more gently than he had with his delicate volumes.

The things he made her feel were much more wonderful than what she had lustily observed on their evenings in the library – he read her perfectly, his literacy focused with a single-minded intensity that he rarely devoted to anything else. She couldn't believe she had _ever_ wanted to be a book when simply being Tonks was a thousand times better…

* * *

Remus makes reading fun! Think he might do the same for reviewing? ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	18. Reading part II

**A/N:** Most of the credit for this installment must go to **MrsTater** – she dared me to continue on with a notion from last chapter, of Tonks morphing prose onto her skin. I just couldn't pass an idea like that up! Enjoy. :)

* * *

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Reading part II…_

"What's your favourite book?" she asked him one evening, out of the blue. Mere months ago he might have quirked a brow, curious as to why she would wish to know such a seemingly insignificant (yet personal) detail about him – as if she were actually interested in Remus Lupin the man, his likes and dislikes, his quirks and habits. By now he knew better, having learned that she was very much interested in his particulars; also having gotten used to her non sequiturs, he calmly responded that he preferred anything by Oscar Wilde.

He thought nothing more of the question until a few nights later, when he entered his room to find Tonks stretched out in his bed, laying flat on her stomach. It was a sight he had become accustomed to (even though he still had trouble grasping it if he thought about it too hard), but there was a rather obvious difference this time: wherever the sheets didn't obscure her arms, legs, and back, her skin was covered with delicate black blots.

Stepping closer, his sharp eyes made out that they were actually _words_, scrawled all over as if somebody had taken a quill and ink and simply used her in lieu of parchment. It was a remarkable (and attractive) sight to behold; Remus sat on the bed beside her and couldn't stop his itching fingers from trailing over a sentence as if it were Braille. When no smears were left in his hand's wake, he realized it wasn't ink – she had actually morphed it all onto herself!

Amazed, he looked up and met her seductive grin. "Like it?" she queried coyly.

"Nymphadora, this is incredible! I had no idea you had such control over your abilities!" he exclaimed, leaning over her back to examine the words more closely.

"It was quite the challenge – needed much more precision than my usual morphs," she admitted, without losing her Cheshire Cat grin as she then continued, "But I wanted to surprise you."

A few seconds later, while reading the prose written across her spine, he remembered the question she had asked him and suddenly understood. "Why, it's Wilde!"

"I thought you'd enjoy this new medium," she cooed, opening the door for a suggestive response – but one never came.

Remus was preoccupied, completely engaged in the lines. When he finally spoke up, he reluctantly said, "I believe I've found a spelling error…"

Turning her head to peer over her shoulder, Tonks exclaimed, "What? But I copied these pages directly out of your book!"

"Well, I did purchase it at a second-hand store – it was an extremely cheap copy, by no means put out by a particularly reputable publisher," he explained absent-mindedly, still engrossed in the text. "Nor a particularly competent one, obviously. Ah see, there's another blunder… And another! Honestly, how could anybody have missed that?"

"I think you missed your calling as an editor," the witch grumbled impatiently, dropping her head back down onto the pillow. "Remus, you are aware that you've got a naked woman in your bed and instead you're busy reading, right?"

"Just a moment," he replied distractedly. "This is my favourite part!"

Huffing indignantly, Tonks scrunched up her face and concentrated, and the passages faded off her body in an instant. Then propping herself up on her elbows and fixing him with a playful glare, she mock-loftily declared, "I'm not sure I like how easily Mr. Wilde can divert your attention from more important and… _pleasurable_ matters."

Smiling sheepishly, he shuffled forward and placed an apologetic kiss on her lips. "I'm sorry… If it's any consolation, I don't think he'll be able to from this point onward – I'm sure whenever I pick up one of his novels, perusing the pages simply won't compare to perusing you."

Her amused irritation faded to being flattered by his comment, but then she winced. "Oh bugger, does that mean I've ruined your favourite book? Perhaps I should've picked your least favourite instead…"

"Now that would be something! I'd be interested to see you attempt _A Tale of Two Cities_," he laughed. "Or _A Tale of Run-on Sentences_, as I tend to call it… If anything could make me like Dickens, I'm sure it would be you."

"Well, then I'd be glad to offer you another perspective on it," she murmured alluringly, reaching for the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. "But another time, hmm? Right now I'm much more anxious for you to… _turn my pages_, if you get my drift…"

* * *

I'd make some naughty pun about writing a page-turner, except that having fics online sort of precludes the actual flipping of pages. I suppose that's a good thing, as you're all saved from the lameness of my jokes. In return for that benevolent service, why not leave me a review? ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	19. PMS

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_PMS…_

Remus always had trouble sleeping when the full moon approached. After a night of tossing and turning and getting no rest whatsoever he was considerably irate, and entered the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with a grumble.

"Ooh, watch out!" Sirius cautioned melodramatically, accustomed to his moods. "Moony's on the warpath!"

He shot the man a warning glare and sat down. Tonks appeared not to notice, and pushed a plate towards him. "Here you go! You slept in, so I saved you some of Molly's breakfast," she chirped.

"Slept in? That would require sleeping to actually have taken place," he scoffed petulantly. Then looking at the greasy eggs and bangers, his queasy stomach lurched. "And I don't feel like eating right now."

After he bit out those words he immediately wanted to chastise himself for being so short with her. He began to apologize, but Sirius spoke first. "Now Moony, don't take your pre-transformation temper out on us, mate!"

He tried to speak in a hurt tone, but Remus knew better – after all, he'd had years of exposure to his lycanthropic tetchiness and was well used to it by now. Tonks, on the other hand, was not – but as he glanced over at her, all he saw was amusement.

"Well, looks like somebody's got PMS!" she exclaimed gleefully.

"Excuse me?" he wondered in astonishment, while Sirius snorted into his mug. "I have no such thing! I would have thought you'd noticed by now, Nymphadora, that I am certainly not a woman."

He was thankful she continued before Padfoot had the chance to interject with an inappropriate response to that comment. "I'm not talking about _my_ monthly problem," she laughed, eyes twinkling merrily. "I'm talking about _yours_ – you have Pre_moon_strual Syndrome!"

Her cousin began to laugh uproariously while Remus could only stare at her in disbelief. "Now really," he said exasperatedly. "I hardly think my condition is something to poke fun at."

"Who's poking fun?" she questioned, eyeing him earnestly. "I'm sympathizing! Believe me, I know how you feel."

"Oi, do we really need to go into more detail about this?" Sirius winced with the typical discomfort of males when women discussed their… _feminine issues_.

A portion of Remus shared in that uneasiness, but a larger part of him was curious. "Actually, I think I'd like to know what she means," he replied sceptically, attempting to mask the bitterness in his voice – she was only trying to cheer him up, after all. "You're aware of what it's like to turn into a snarling beast once a month?"

"Absolutely!" she quipped. "Me and every other woman."

He sighed. "Really Tonks, it's not the same."

"It's actually quite similar!" she insisted, not at all phased by his grumpiness or Sirius burying his face in his hands with a perturbed moan. "Well, regarding symptoms, at least. Do you have trouble sleeping?"

"Yes…"

"Headaches? Bloating?"

"Yes…"

"Irritability? Wait, that one's obvious. Trouble concentrating, muscle pain?" Then she smirked brazenly. "Breast tenderness?"

"I don't believe that last one applies," he told her dryly, and then closed his eyes in defeat. "All right, you've made your point. You obviously have some empathy for my symptoms."

"Personally," Padfoot stated as he stood to escape the awkward conversation, "I'd take a werewolf at his time of the month over a woman at hers! In fact, I'm amazed the two of you haven't ripped each other to shreds if you're PMSing at the same time…"

Tonks watched the man leave the room and then shuffled closer to Remus, running a hand up and down his arm. "At least it's not all bad…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's our increase in… er, libido. Not exactly a burden, is it?" she grinned, and it only widened as Remus' cheeks flushed.

"No, I don't suppose it is," he had to agree, amazed to have found a bright spot to his plight – until he heard Sirius shout from the corridor, "Remus is a randy werewolf!"

His blush grew deeper and he muttered, "That was Firewhiskey in his mug, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

He shook his head, but couldn't help chuckling deviously when she pointed out, "Don't worry about him, Remus – he's the one who'll have to deal with two PMSing individuals, after all."

Weighing his friend's penchant for annoying others versus his monthly ill humour, he was forced to sombrely declare, "I doubt he stands a chance."

* * *

Well, we've got menstrual cycles and lunar cycles… Now if only the cycle of me updating and you reviewing was as constant, eh? ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	20. Birth

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Birth…_

He watched Tonks tie a pink ribbon ("It's cheery, isn't it?") around the letter she was owling. Strange, the things that could prompt the most vivid recollections of instances and events long past… She shooed the bird out the window, then turned towards him and caught his distracted look.

"What is it?" she asked him, curious.

"Oh, nothing," he replied quickly, a tad embarrassed at the direction his thoughts had taken. But of course, he should have known the inquisitive Auror wouldn't let him change the subject. Sighing, he revealed, "This will probably make me appear every inch the lecherous old man, but I was actually remembering the day you were born."

To his surprise, she didn't appear put off by that declaration. Instead she plopped down on the seat beside him and begged him to tell her the story.

_It had been a particularly bad day_, Remus began, after considerable wheedling on Tonks' part._ One of those days where everything went wrong, and though separately they were merely small annoyances, they compounded until it all seemed utterly awful._

_To start, he had still been recovering from the full moon a few nights before, meaning he ached all over and looked rather peaky. His friends had been kind enough to let him sleep in, but then they'd forgotten to wake him up; consequently he'd been late for breakfast, and the only thing the bottomless pits that called themselves Gryffindors had left was some porridge. To Remus' queasy stomach it looked all too much like the armadillo bile in the Potions classroom._

_Aching and hungry, he was forced to soldier on as things just kept going badly. He was late to class, dropped his books, forgot his essay in the common room, ruined the Shrinking Solution he was supposed to be brewing, endured Severus' sneers, got caught in the cross-fire of the food fight Sirius initiated at lunch…_

_And that was all before Divination, which was sure to send the day even further downhill. Remus wasn't especially good at it, but that wasn't the problem; no, rather the trouble came from his being partnered with Sybill Trelawney. The girl had a tendency towards the melodramatic, and constantly predicted he would fall victim to either a horrible death, chronic illness, or (and this always put the other Marauders in stitches) wild animal attack._

Tonks snorted at that. "Well, I suppose that's another correct prediction we could chalk up to her, no? It was true, after all – only late." Then she prodded him on again, eager to hear about her role.

_He had been resigned to more of the same fatalistic forecasts as the class progressed to crystal balls, and groaned when she told him, "Relax your Inner Eye and gaze into the Orb. What do you see in its shadows?"_

_The swirling mist inside hadn't appeared to be much of anything. He squinted, but then the colours merely blurred together – by the furthest stretch of his imagination the closest thing it resembled was a sort of rainbow, and he told her so._

"_A rainbow?" she had echoed, sounding intrigued. That prompted her to peer in herself, and her eyes widened. "How interesting! The dominant colour by far is… Pink. And a shape is taking form – a lizard of some kind? Ahh, a chameleon! Remus, this means a great change will be coming your way!"_

_He was relieved at having received no new ominous portents but still didn't think twice about Trelawney's predictions, even when Professor Delphi had commended her on the good reading. When was she ever correct? It only crossed his mind again later that evening, when an owl swooped in through the dormitory window grasping a roll of parchment tied with pink ribbon._

"_Moony, you heard Trelawney – she saw pink, so that must be for you! Is there a secret girlfriend you've been hiding from us?" James had chuckled, but the owl swooped over to Sirius instead._

_Unrolling the letter, the boy skimmed it over and then burst out into an exuberant whoop. "Brilliant! My cousin Andromeda just had a baby girl!"_

_Remus felt an odd jolt at that news. Although he wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers and sleep for a week, he couldn't help but smile. "That's excellent news. Send her our congratulations." Despite such a horrid day, things somehow seemed undeniably brighter then._

"_What's the kid's name?" James wanted to know._

_Sirius read further down the letter, and then snorted when he came across it. "Nymphadora? Now that's a mouthful for the poor tiddler."_

"_I think it's quite nice…" Lupin had mused, mostly to himself but overheard by the others._

"_You're absolutely barmy!" Sirius gaped, and Peter quickly nodded his head in agreement. "She's going to grow up hating it, mark my words. Aside from Andy – and I'll have to owl back and ask her what she was thinking – you're probably the only one who'd ever like it."_

"And right he was!" Tonks hooted, quite amused by his tale. "I can't believe you actually liked my name even back then – what thirteen year old boy _wouldn't_ make fun of it? I certainly had to endure the heckling in my Hogwarts days…"

"I wasn't about to make fun of a baby," Remus responded indignantly, and then gazed at her oddly. As she had done countless times before, she surprised him with her reaction. "You're all right with this? You don't think it's… strange that I recall that? That I was almost halfway done school when you were born?"

She just laughed, leaning in to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek. "You daft man, I was perfectly aware of our age difference before this, and it hardly matters," she told him matter-of-factly, and then smirked. "Besides, it's rather sweet you remember that. But now that I know you've such a good memory, I won't accept any excuses about forgetting birthdays or anniversaries…"

* * *

And I won't accept any excuse about not reviewing! Leave me a few words, if you don't mind? ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	21. Too old

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Too old…  
_

As he sat down Remus' joints cracked loudly, and he winced. As if there weren't enough signs of his age, what with his greying hair and lined face and occasional fuddy-duddy ways… Now there was aural evidence to add to already long list.

He glanced down at the glass of liquor in his hand. People always claimed they'd feel better after a drink, but alcohol was a depressant – and accordingly, it always managed to dredge up his rather morose thoughts. Why had he even consented to drinking in the first place?

"Wipe that look off your face, mate!" Sirius called from across the parlour, raising his own glass of Firewhiskey. Ah yes, that was why – his friend had insisted he joined him. By now the other man had drunk just enough to make him cheery, but not quite enough to push him over the edge and into melancholy – yet. "I can recognize a Moony Mope from a mile away – what's the problem this time?"

"No problem," he responded with a sardonic laugh. "Only my age, but there's hardly anything that can be done about that."

"It's a good thing you've got Tonks around, then!" Padfoot called, delving straight into the heart of the matter as usual, albeit unwittingly. "Don't know a better person to make you feel young again."

Remus contemplated that. Yes, being with Tonks was more effective than any De-Aging Potion – but like the potions, the youthful, carefree feelings were temporary. She said she didn't care, and he tried to convince himself that he didn't either, but that hadn't been very effective. "I'm too old for her…"

The Black snorted and took another sip of alcohol. "Oh, bollocks! Loads of men date younger women, it's nothing unusual. Why would you be special?"

"Thanks for the compassion, Padfoot," he replied dryly. "And it's hardly the same thing… I doubt you often see a thirteen year age difference. Good Godric, I'm old enough to be her father!" He put his hand over his eyes while his stomach sank at the thought.

However, Sirius roared boisterously in laugher while sloshing amber liquid all over the floor. "Thirteen-year-old Remus Lupin, studious bookworm, tutoring impressionable young girls in anatomy lessons? That'd be the day!" Perhaps it was a good thing that he found the idea so ludicrous – but it was still technically possible, wasn't it? But before that could be pointed out, the other man poured himself another tot and suggested, "I doubt you'd be so opposed to _me_ dating somebody her age."

"Well, that's hardly the same thing," Remus sputtered, but was quickly interrupted.

"You wouldn't, and you know it! And you'd better believe that if I could get out of this bloody house, I'd damn well try…" he affirmed, tossing himself back on the settee with a scowl. "Now don't start with any of that 'I'm old' rubbish – we're the same age, and Death isn't knocking at our doors just yet!"

"No, just Death _Eaters_," Lupin retorted as he polished off his own drink. But knowing there was no arguing with his friend when he got like this he then conceded, "Very well – perhaps I'm not actually old, but I'm certainly too old for Tonks."

"Says who?" hollered Sirius, his voice growing louder with every sip he downed. "Is there some sort of magic number? What about nine years, would that be all right? Maybe even ten! But oh no, anything over ten and a quarter would be simply too much…"

"Padfoot –"

"Besides," he continued to ramble, "You should be jolly well pleased with yourself! If it was me and I'd managed to bag a younger bird, I'd be taking her out and soaking up blokes' jealous glares!"

Yes, that was exactly what Sirius would do – but Remus received quite enough glares from other people, and none could remotely be interpreted as jealousy. He sighed, shaking his head. "I'd always thought lowly of men like that, the ones that paraded around showing off their trophy wives and girlfriends…"

At this point Sirius, who had given up using his glass and was drinking Firewhiskey straight from the bottle, choked on it. "Bloody hell, Moony, the point is that you're nothing of the sort! D'you think Tonks would hang off the arm of anybody, let alone some wanker she didn't care about? And she's obviously not with you for your money…"

"Thank you," Remus groaned. "That certainly lifted my spirits." He should have known better than to reveal his worries to Sirius – he may have had more experience with women, but that didn't mean he had learned to be particularly sympathetic.

"Oh, just trust me when I say Tonks doesn't care about any of that," the man declared, getting to his feet and wobbling slightly as he made for the door. Then as he left the room he threw over his shoulder, "You worry too much, mate – age only matters when you're a wine! Hmm, I wonder if we have any wine left…"

* * *

Like a fine wine, Remus would only get better with age, no? ;) But hopefully it won't take an age for you to review! Oi, that was lame… But still, please do drop me a few words! 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	22. Too poor

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Too poor…_

"Can I help you, _sir_?"

The cashier at Flourish and Blotts emphasized the last word in a disdainful tone as he stared at the patches and holes in Remus' robes, no doubt wondering whether a respectful address was necessary.

With a nonchalance built up after years of practice (and prejudice), Remus ignored it. "I'm here to pick up a package," he responded mildly. "_Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts_ – I received an owl this morning telling me it had arrived."

"Yes, it's here," came the reply, and man turned to search behind the counter. He found the set and eyed it skeptically, but appeared mollified after noting the attached receipt that indicated it was already paid for – courtesy of the Noble and Most Ancient bank account of Black. But of course Lupin's name was the one listed, and he tried to hide his surprise that the bedraggled customer could have actually scrounged up such an amount.

Remus accepted the books with a tight smile, then shrunk them, stuffed them in a pocket, and left the store through a crowd of holiday shoppers. He watched with a bit of envy as they perused the goods, considerations of funds and budgets barely crossing their minds. If only he had that luxury…

He tried to push those thoughts away and hurried to leave Diagon Alley, not wanting to be surrounded by countless items he couldn't afford. His task was done, he had only come to pick up Harry's gift – a job Sirius insisted made him entitled to as much of the bestowal as he was.

"You picked it out and picked it up, I paid for it," he had reasoned. "That means it's from both of us – and if you try to act all noble, I'll just sign your name to it anyway."

It was hardly fair, but Remus had stopped arguing in the end – when Sirius had his mind made up there was often no changing it. And it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to give the boy something; it was just that he wished he could have provided it himself. The same went for the others as well: the Weasleys, the rest of the Order… and especially Tonks.

He hadn't even been able to take her out on a proper date yet; and realistically, with all the current legislation in place, he probably never would. With that hanging heavy in his heart the werewolf hurried off, eyes set straight ahead so as not to be distracted by any shiny baubles or colourful items that would be perfect for her.

It wasn't often that the gloom of Number Twelve was preferred over the outside world, but once Remus returned his brooding had been diverted by Padfoot's antics, much merrier now that he had company for Christmas. Just how Sirius had managed to Spellotape his hair to the volumes as he attempted to wrap them Remus would never know… Molly had joined in the chuckles, and he had been glad to see her laughing, especially with poor Arthur still in the hospital.

Had it not been for the slightly paler shade of her face and the tired bags under her eyes, he might not have guessed that greater worries were plaguing her – especially since she was knitting madly, as usual. He realized she was probably making something extra for her husband, and privately predicted that Weasley-made warmth would heal him much faster than whatever Muggle remedies the man tried.

Remus found himself watching the needles move swiftly back and forth, the soft clicking sounds actually becoming quite soothing. Would another jumper soon be taking form? Or maybe a scarf, or an afghan? He found it admirable, her toiling away to make gifts for her family like that – sometimes a labour of love was much more valuable than any old material possession.

And as he thought that, he chuckled ironically to himself. Why couldn't he have taken that attitude earlier, when he had been musing on his financial difficulties? After all, if anybody understood such hardships it was the Weasleys – they had endured multiple points in their lives where they had been forced to pinch their Galleons, and they had still managed to thrive…

He knew he could manage as well. There was never any doubt about him surviving on almost nothing – he had done it before and could do it again, surely. The uncertainty came when adding another person into the equation. What of he and Tonks – could they do the same?

Yet then there came the irrefutable truth: she deserved better. She shouldn't have to struggle to make ends meet, skipping meals and scrimping on the littlest things, not being able to buy gifts for the people she cared about… She deserved better.

Long after Molly and Sirius had left he remained seated, staring into the fire and repeating that mantra to himself over and over again. He was only shaken from his reverie when Tonks stumbled over the threshold, greeting him with a "Wotcher!"

He managed to greet her warmly in return, and she plopped down beside him and sighed. "Bugger, I've had a crap day! The only thing that got me through it was hoping for an early Christmas present tonight."

She shot him a cheeky wink, no doubt expecting a playful rejoinder, but instead Remus' stomach dropped. Merlin, what could he say to that? But before he had a chance to answer, Tonks dragged him up and over to the doorway. She stared at him with those always-sparking eyes, and they trailed up over his weary body and above.

He followed their gaze and landed on the mistletoe Sirius had hung up on his manic holiday decorating spree. "Oh..."

She grinned and leaned in, meeting his lips for a heated kiss – one that only ended minutes later with her pulling away slightly and whispering, "Mmm, you're the best gift _ever_…"

* * *

Wouldn't we all like to find a gift-wrapped Remus waiting under the tree on Christmas morning? Although if that's not possible, I'd settle for some reviews… ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	23. Too dangerous

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Too dangerous…_

The upcoming full moon was making his old bones ache, so he trudged up the stairs slower than usual. He entered Buckbeak's room quietly and bowed, trying not to wince as his joints cracked, and then sat down on the bed (which was being used as a scratching post for the Hippogriff's talons).

Sirius was ensconced somewhere in the house, bonding with a bottle of Firewhiskey – a more common occurrence now that Number Twelve had emptied out again after Christmas – and so the task of feeding the animal had fallen to Lupin. He didn't mind, and at least he didn't have to provide the dead rodents himself – one of Padfoot's favourite sights these days was rat corpses, for obvious reasons.

Reaching into the bucket he held, he pulled one out by its tail and threw it; Buckbeak skilfully caught it in midair and began gnawing on it. He finished it quickly and raised his head, asking for another. Remus was happy to oblige, and they began a game of tossing and nabbing the rats. He enjoyed watching the Hippogriff, seeing how agilely a creature like that could move, despite being large and what some would perhaps call awkward (not that they would say such a thing to its face, of course!). He idly wondered if he was graceful as a beast…

Lost in his musings, he barely noticed Tonks had arrived until she tripped through the door and landed on her knees. Buckbeak stared at her in surprise but seemed to interpret her action as one of the utmost respect, and dropped to his knees in return.

"Wotcher, Beaky," she laughed, reaching out to caress his feathery head. "And Wotcher to you too, Remus. You two don't mind some company, do you?"

She rose to her feet but did so stiffly, and Remus instantly looked at her in concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she waved off, stumbling towards the bed and plopping down beside him. "Just had a bit of an accident at work, but it's not a big deal."

"What?" His head shot up in alarm, and he faltered in the process of throwing another rat. The Hippogriff shot him an annoyed look with his orange eyes but Remus paid no heed, instead focusing on the young woman and studying her intently for any injuries. "What happened?"

She looked away sheepishly. "We were executing a search warrant when I tripped and fell right through a Disillusioned door, and down a few steps. Horribly embarrassing, but it turns out I found the evidence we needed."

A part of him wanted to crack a smile at the job well done, but the majority of him was more concerned about her wellbeing. "Are you sure you're all right? How badly were you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Remus!" she exclaimed, clasping his hands in hers and squeezing tightly. "I'm only a bit sore. There was a bit of a sprain, but I healed it – I'm well-trained, remember?"

He knew that, of course – and he wouldn't dare insult her skills, but he still worried. He couldn't help it. "I just want you safe, that's all."

She shot a wry grin his way. "I appreciate the thought, and same goes to you, but we're in the middle of a war! I doubt there's such a thing as safe."

Buckbeak nodded sagely at that before letting out an annoyed squawk, reminding Remus to continue with his feeding. He did so as Tonks went on with a laugh, "Besides, if you want me safe, I'm afraid the bigger problem is my clumsiness, no? I'm destined for bumps and bruises – unless you plan on following me everywhere and vanishing every possible thing I could run into or trip on. Actually, that sounds like a nice idea…"

While she spoke, Remus watched the Hippogriff tear at another dead rodent. Her joking tone was lost on him as he became distracted, engrossed in the way the talons ripped it apart. In a flash his mind had replaced the talons with claws and the fur with human flesh…

The man quickly shook his head to erase the image. Clumsiness wasn't his main concern – Tonks was used to the occasional scrapes. She was resilient, like him. No, he was worried about the more treacherous dangers that lurked in the world… Again, like him.

He swallowed and tried to alleviate the sombre mood that seemed to have settled over him. "Perhaps you may have already guessed this, but I happen to be rather fond of you," he informed her dryly. "And part and parcel of that is feeling an annoyingly chivalric need to protect you."

Tonks lay her head on his shoulder and looked up at him adoringly. "That's incredibly sweet, actually – even though I don't really need it."

"Still," he insisted, "I should do my part in making things safer for you – for starters, preventing you from romping around with a werewolf on full moons…"

She straightened and stared at him. "Remus, that's ridiculous! You'd never hurt me!"

Lupin concentrated on tossing another rodent so he wouldn't have to see the look on her face. "I wouldn't hurt you _now_, but you and I both know that things are different when I transform. I'm dangerous!"

"You and I both know that Wolfsbane makes you completely safe! Honestly, _Buckbeak_ is probably more dangerous than you are on the potion!" she cried out in exasperation, and the Hippogriff seemed rather smug at her comment.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Nymphadora," he tried to calm her, but to no avail.

"Upset me?" She shook her head in disappointment as she rose to her feet. "Then you shouldn't have mentioned any of this! I'm a fully-trained Auror, perfectly capable of handling a werewolf – and while you're on Wolfsbane you're nothing more than a mild-mannered professor who gets a bit furry, and I can certainly handle one of _those_, no matter how stubborn they're being!"

With that declaration, she strode out of the room. Buckbeak watched her go, and then shot Remus a pointed look.

"I know, I buggered that up rather splendidly," he sighed, staring down at the bucket of rats between his feet. "I only want her to be safe…"

And yet the man knew that no matter his objections, come the next full moon she would be right beside him. He didn't know whether to be thankful or terrified – especially considering that a part of him wanted her there.

* * *

If I get some reviews, I promise I'll lean more towards the thankful rather than the terrified end of the spectrum! Er, unless they're scary, of course. ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	24. Three little words

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Three Little Words…_

He hadn't been able to voice them yet. He felt foolish about it (they were monosyllabic, at most a measly four letters long, and yet they eluded him!), but the overruling part of him couldn't help but be cautious. After all, as small as they were, they had the power to change things. It wasn't so much that he couldn't _physically _voice them… Rather, it was the implications they carried.

He knew they were applicable to him, despite his best efforts to repress and deny it. But he was a logical man, and he knew they _shouldn't_ be applicable – after all, he was old and poor and dangerous… And that was only the start of the doubts arising in him.

What if she didn't feel the same way? A horrible image kept popping into his mind: he would confess and she would nervously babble about it all being a misunderstanding, tripping over her feet in her haste to rush off. Maybe this relationship (is that what this was? He still couldn't believe it…) was simply a casual fling, or a means of comfort and feeling alive…

His heart told him differently, yet his mind managed to hold him off. Perhaps it would be easier if he didn't say it? That way, once she inevitably came to her senses (which would happen, surely; the precedent had been set, after all), perhaps it would hurt less.

…No, he was simply unable to sell that notion to himself. Still, all the wondering and worries were enough to make him bite his tongue.

But then, as tended to happen in their relationship (because that _was_ what they had, wasn't it?), Tonks made the first move – only this time she was unaware of it. She had thought him asleep; he nearly had been, blissfully sated and worn-out. As usual, she cuddled up beside him and trailed her fingers through the maze of scars on his body. What was unusual was her then silently tracing letters onto his chest. The scar tissue numbed some of the sensation, yet he had clearly discerned each word as if it were burned onto him, branded on his very being – slowly, torturously, they spelt out _I love you_.

His heart began to beat rapidly and he hoped she hadn't noticed. He had just feigned sleep, not saying a word. He was such a bloody coward…

However, he couldn't stop her actions from giving him hope. Maybe one day they would both find the courage to say those words to each other… Until then, he contented himself with watching her slumber and tracing those same letters onto the smooth, flawless skin of her back. He took heart that when he did so, even though she was fast asleep, she always smiled.

* * *

If you review, I promise I won't be too shy to express my love and undying gratitude! ;) 

Toodles,  
- ish -


	25. Hurt

**A/N**: No, you're not hallucinating – I really am alive and posting something! I'm rather ashamed that it's been so bloody long since I last updated… I blame real life and all its distractions. But now that summer's approaching, here's hoping I'll have much more time to churn out the chapters. Oh, and before we go any further, let's all thank MrsTater, because her polite prodding and rec at crackbroom (so very flattering!) really helped me get moving on this. So this one's for her!

* * *

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Hurt…_

She hurt.

That was the only coherent thought she had as she slowly drifted back to consciousness. The dull, throbbing ache all over her body was noticed first, before the acrid odour of sanitation spells assaulted her nose and the starchy stiffness of hospital linens scratched against her skin. It was only after confusingly registering a dozen painful sensations hitting her all at once that she became cognizant of a more pleasant one – the warm weight of a calloused hand desperately squeezing hers.

She opened her eyes warily, blinking and tearing up as the harsh light met them. But she realized hers weren't the only eyes watering as she met those of the man keeping vigil by her bedside. He looked as if he'd aged ten years during the… well, during however long she had been unconscious for.

She tried to sit up, reaching for him, but her ribs disapproved and so did he. He scolded her gently, and she silently made a vague prediction that he would probably be mollycoddling her even more than Molly Weasley – quite the feat. Or maybe she had actually voiced that thought aloud instead of merely thinking it (she couldn't really be sure… it had to be all the potions no doubt coursing through her system), because he smiled – but it was strained.

His smiles always, _always_ met his eyes. So despite the pain and Merlin-knew-what concoctions fogging her mind, she knew something was wrong.

She was afraid to ask… But then again, she had always been morbidly curious.

Ever since she had awoken she had felt her torso aching and head pounding, but until his answer she thought her lungs were fine. At his words, she could have sworn the air left them. Had she fallen down those stairs all over again? It certainly felt like it.

She didn't know what to say. Words of comfort weren't exactly her forte – she could toss out a bawdy joke or pithy comment at a moment's notice, but what exactly did you say to a man who had lost the last of his best friends for the second time? Anything she could think of seemed like a meaningless platitude.

She'd never been one to subscribe to that old adage of actions speaking louder than words (if that were true, what sorts of unpleasant things did her clumsiness scream?), but now seemed the time to test it.

Opening her arms as wide as she could, she silently beckoned him to her. The grateful expression on his face actually managed to lift her spirits slightly. So did his arms wrapping gingerly around her, as tender and mindful as if she were some fragile figurine. Physically, that was probably appropriate; but emotionally, he seemed like the one on the verge of shattering.

She had broken her share of things over the years. A simple _Reparo_ worked wonders on ceramics and crockery, but what could be said to piece together a crumbling man? Nothing came to mind; so she merely wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, ignoring the protestations her injuries gave.

The physical aches and pains all seemed so inconsequential now… Yes, she hurt – but now she hurt for him.

* * *

So, some reviews sure would ease my transition back into the writing world! ;) Anybody kind enough to comment gets a Remus they can squeeze and comfort to their heart's content… 

Toodles,

- ish -


	26. Conditioning

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Conditioning…_

She hates her name, and Remus still can't fully comprehend why.

It's beautiful, he repeatedly tells her. It's unique and enchanting; it sounds elegant and graceful.

"I'm not exactly an elegant and graceful person, am I?" she retorts with good nature, and he can't very well argue with that. But it is that comment which leads him to thinking.

Might it be precisely that which makes her first name so bothersome? That it acts as a constant reminder of the grace and balance she self-consciously lacks? Or it could be something completely different. Perhaps it links her to a cruel family she wants no such connection with, or maybe it creates some glamorous image she feels she can't live up to…

Sirius had always told him he was crap with psychology, but Remus can't help but wonder about all the things that make people tick – and attempting to figure out the many different facets of the woman he loves is no exception.

He remembers reading about some old Muggle psychologist who conditioned dogs to salivate when he rung a bell (perhaps that had led to some of Padfoot's disdain for the field?). All it had taken was ringing the bell each time the animals were presented with food, and eventually the chime alone would lead to their response. The logic intrigues him…

…So he decides to apply it.

He stops calling her Nymphadora throughout the course of the day. At first she is smug about it, thinking her protests have finally sunk in – but of course, they haven't. He merely takes to only whispering her name during the throes of passion, where it seems to slip from his tongue without thought or effort as she arches and digs her nails into his back.

Night after night he calls her name; sometimes it is with a sated sigh, sometimes with a beseeching groan, but every time she hears it she is drowning in satisfaction, too lost to correct him.

It is certainly one of the more enjoyable experiments he has ever undertaken. Eventually Remus decides it is time to determine its success. Have the more pleasurable associations with her name being uttered finally taken hold?

He must test his hypothesis.

"Tea, Nymphadora?" he asks her after an Order meeting, and receives a sweet smile.

"How was your day, Nymphadora?" he questions as she returns from the Ministry, and is rewarded with a coy look in her sparkling eyes.

"Good morning, Nymphadora," he whispers to her slowly-awakening form next to him, and he sees her shiver with delight.

She still protests when others use her first name, but no longer when Remus does; and he has to fight back a grin and a slight flush every time he thinks as to why.

* * *

Here's hoping you're all conditioned to hit that little review button after reading this! ;) 

Toodles,

- ish -


	27. Conditioning part II

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Conditioning part II…_

He hates his scars, and Tonks can fully understand why.

I don't care, she repeatedly tells him. They don't bother her; she still finds him ridiculously attractive.

"I'm not exactly gracing the cover of _Witch Weekly_, am I?" he laughs wryly, and does his best to keep them covered up. She's seen them all, but sometimes he is still self-conscious around her. It gets her to thinking.

Not only are they a twisted memento of the hurt he has already endured, but they also act as evidence of what he can't outrun, of what is fated to come again the next month. Yet she knows it's not the pain that bothers him the most, but rather the monster that he believes he becomes.

She wishes she could show him that although the scars may mar his skin, they haven't touched the man he is inside. She tells him and tells him, but she can see it doesn't sink in. It is the cacophany of scars crisscrossing his body that catch his eyes in the mirror; they are louder than any words she can utter.

It is unfair, she thinks, that he must bear such harsh reminders of his curse. If only scars came with pleasant memories attached…

…And that thought intrigues her.

One night she grows her fingernails slightly longer than she usually wears them. Later, when Remus cries out her name in the throes of passion (the one time she thinks she might not mind hearing it), she can't help but dig her nails into his strong, sinewy back. He is warm and solid, an anchor she clutches to lest she be lost in the storm of passion that surrounds them.

The next morning he wakes with little half-moon indentations all over his back. She traces them lightly and feels somewhat sheepish, but that disappears when he looks into the mirror and grins at the sight of them.

Night after night he calls her name; night after night she clings to his body, as close and as tight as she can, trying to show him that she finds _nothing_ off-putting about it whatsoever.

In the mornings there is usually some sort of indication of where she has been, whether more nail marks, some small scratches, or a fading bite mark. Remus doesn't avoid the mirror anymore; now he tends to stop and examine himself, never without poking fun at her.

"Apparently you like my scars so much that you've decided to give me some new ones," he teases.

She blushes and apologizes; he always waves it off. She is glad, because she can't bring herself to feel truly sorry.

He still has the occasional moments of self-consciousness, but rarely ever with her; and she has to fight back a grin and a slight flush every time she thinks as to why.

* * *

Reviewers can tell Remus just how much they don't mind his scars – in as hands-on a fashion as they feel is necessary! ;) 

Toodles,

- ish -


	28. Aftermath

**A/N:** Shame, shame, shame on me for taking so long between updates once again. Despite not even taking a full course load, my final year of university has been rather hectic. However, 'tis the holiday season, so not only do I have a bit of time to write, but I feel I should offer up a little gift! So here we are, a little piece that will hopefully get the muses warmed up – and hopefully put a smile on your faces.

* * *

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Aftermath…_

It wasn't the process of turning into the wolf that frightened him; rather, it was turning back into a man. Becoming the wolf was the same each time – there would be pain, and then he would remember no more. However, becoming a man once again was not as habitual, for without Wolfsbane Potion there was absolutely no telling what he may have done while transformed.

It was the aftermath that was the worst, Remus was sure. Future moons could only be dealt with through a sense of inevitability; but past moons were dwelt upon, and were made all the more salient by the injuries and wounds that would be left behind.

It used to be his parents who would heal him afterwards; once they were gone, he took over the task. He had learned the basic first aid spells from watching them performed each month, and he always managed to adequately patch himself back up.

Perhaps it had been a source of pride for him, Remus mused. He had been able to survive on his own, without asking for help; he had maintained some sense of dignity while in perhaps the most undignified of positions, naked and bleeding on a cold, damp floor.

But, as he had been so forcefully reminded, all men had their undignified moments. That he had accepted his fate so bravely and unflinchingly was truly dignified, Tonks had told him – it certainly made up for a few moments of nudity.

He hadn't wished for her to see him that way, of course, but she hadn't been swayed by his protests. "You know I just can't pass up seeing you starkers, can I?" she had winked cheekily.

The first time she had come following a moon, Remus had been terse. Or, as she charmingly put it, "A bit of a git" – and she'd been right. He hadn't wanted her there, he hadn't wanted her to see him at one of his lowest points when he tried so very hard to only show her the good.

She, on the other hand, had been brilliant. She had cleaned the blood off him with her best _Scourgify_ ever, and easily went about mending his cuts and gashes with the many healing spells in her Auror-trained arsenal. He had been tucked into bed before he even knew it.

Despite his insistences that she didn't need to do so, she was with him again the very next month, and the one after that, and the one after that. It became a routine before he was even aware of it.

Each time his objections dwindled. Each time reawakening as a human became slightly easier, because each time she was the first thing his bleary eyes saw.

And now, as Remus lay still on the floor, listening to the sound of combat boots clomping down the stairs towards him, he realized that it had been silly to think it was all about pride. It wasn't a matter of feeling pitied, or babied…

It was a matter of feeling loved.

* * *

Reviewers can feel free to nurse Remus back to health! Or they can get Remus to nurse _them_, if that's what they'd prefer… ;) 

Toodles,

- ish -


	29. Illusions

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Illusions…_

Tonks slept badly on the full moons. In fact, she always had – but now it was worse. Sleeping badly was actually a rather inaccurate term, for often there was no real sleeping involved; she would merely toss and turn fretfully for hours on end, waiting for the sun to rise.

How could she sleep when somewhere out there in the night Remus was hurting?

The answer was simple: she couldn't. It got to the point where she didn't even bother to try.

Instead she began to keep vigil by the window, sitting on the sill and following the moon's graceful dance across the night sky.

She would watch as it loomed large over the horizon; she would watch as it rose, growing smaller as it ascended; she would watch as it finally faded when the sun made an appearance, and she would release a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.

There was an eerie sort of beauty to it, Tonks supposed; but she couldn't bring herself to truly enjoy it. The only thing she enjoyed was watching the moon seem to shrink as it rose higher and higher – she liked to think that the smaller it became, the more its hold on Remus waned.

She told him of her thoughts and observations one morning while patching him up, after he had guessed how she'd spent her night (and she cursed herself for not morphing away those bags under her eyes!).

"Ah, that's the moon illusion," he explained with a small smile. "The moon always looks larger when it's closer to the horizon than when it's up higher in the sky. It never really changes size, of course – it's an optical illusion."

"Oh," she said, then chuckled at how the man could somehow endure painful transformations and injuries and still manage to be a professor the morning after. At least it seemed to take his mind off his bumps and scrapes, so she asked, "Why does it happen, then?"

"Well, some theories talk about angular sizes, others talk about apparent distance… There's no official agreed upon answer."

"Where's the fun in official answers anyway?" Tonks scoffed good-naturedly as she finished up the last of the healing spells. "Which do you think it is, _Professor_?"

"To be honest, I never gave it that much thought," he murmured with a tight smile. "No matter what the true explanation may be, the moon always seems too big to me."

* * *

Well, I'd like to wish my readers Happy New Year! And they say that the way you ring in the New Year is the way you'll spend the _rest_ of the year – so here's hoping that by posting today, I'll have a very productive year on the fanfic front! Of course, reviews are always good for motivation… ;)

Toodles,

- ish -


	30. Vaults

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Vaults…_

Remus nodded his thanks to the goblin as he cautiously stepped out of the cart. The ride had been quicker than expected – but wasn't that always the case when faced with tasks one dreaded?

As he walked slowly towards the Lupin family vault, he felt somewhat queasy. He tried to tell himself it was due to the harrowing cart ride and not what he was about to do… But his mind was having none of it.

He sighed, and then reached into his robes for the key. He inserted it into the lock, twisted it, and shoved the door open. The hinges were rusty, and it took quite a bit of force to open it enough to step inside.

The rust didn't surprise Remus; after all, there was rarely money coming into his vault and thus hardly any reason to visit, not giving the door much opportunity to receive its exercise. In fact, sometimes he wondered why he even bothered keeping the vault at all – although it did serve as good protection (and easy storage) for some of the family heirlooms he couldn't bear to part with.

Looking around, he took in what was left. The space was emptier than it used to be, as he had been forced to pawn some items during hard times. However, the most important and meaningful mementos remained – his father's writing desk, his mother's photo albums, their record collection…

But he hadn't come here to reminisce (even though that seemed somewhat inevitable). Remus shook his head, then wandered over to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside was a small wooden chest that held his father's pocket watch and some simple chains his mother used to wear. The rest of the jewellery had been sold.

He had almost sold his parents' wedding bands, and his mother's engagement ring, too… He had come so close, but something had stilled his hand. He had no idea why, since he had never anticipated on being close enough to anybody to even_ consider_ using them, but for some inexplicable reason he had left them in their place.

He had been thankful when, years later, he came back to fetch them. He had even spared a laugh at the pessimism of his younger self, for thinking he would never be lucky enough to be granted such a chance. But he had been, and he had _her_, and he had never been so happy to have been wrong.

But now, after a week of carrying the simple gold bands around in his pocket, after a week of fiddling with them constantly, and after a week of asking himself _Is this the perfect moment?_, Remus was back. Now he spared a harsher laugh at the naivety of his week-ago self.

He had indeed planned on using the rings, on asking her… But now he couldn't. It wouldn't be wise, it wouldn't be_ fair_ – not now, not when he had to leave and join the pack.

Perhaps not ever.

Fishing the bands out of his robes, he spared them one last glance before placing them back into the chest and shutting them in the drawer once more.

…If only his feelings were as easy to lock away.

* * *

Poor silly, noble Remus. Reviewers can get locked into Gringott's with Remus and tell him just what they think of his plan! Or anything else they might want to do when stuck in a room with a certain Professor… ;) 

Toodles,

- ish -


	31. Reminders

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Reminders…_

When it first began, Tonks thought her assignment to Hogsmeade would be for the best. Surely keeping the citizens of a bustling wizarding village safe would take up the majority of her time, leaving little in which to think about one Remus John Lupin.

She was wrong.

Every day brought more of the same. Waking up, scrounging up some breakfast, and then patrolling, all the while thinking about Remus. Then lunch and more patrolling, and more thinking about Remus. Then dinner, even more patrolling, and thinking about Remus. Finally bed, and inevitably dreaming about Remus.

She felt pathetic.

Long ago Tonks had sworn that she would never be one of those weepy witches so distraught over the end of a relationship that they would pine and mope and cling to the tattered remains of something that was so clearly _over_… But that resolution had been made before she met Remus, so she felt justified in changing the rules now. Exceptions had to be made in extenuating circumstances, after all.

Besides, their relationship wasn't _clearly_ over! It wasn't clearly_ anything_ – except perhaps in limbo. Yes, he had made his excuses, but she had never agreed. And relationships were comprised of two people, not one making all sorts of daft decisions for the other – so as far as Tonks was concerned, he wasn't able to simply end things just like that.

Yes, that was her reasoning, and she was sticking with it.

Of course, her impeccable logic didn't make it hurt any less – especially when all sorts of reminders kept bringing her back around to him. Whether it was walking past the Shrieking Shack, watching the moon make its trek across the sky, or even catching sight of a man's greying hair, her mind always went back to Remus, Remus, Remus. At one point she even thought she'd seen his face in her plate of scrambled eggs.

All roads led to Rome, and all thoughts led to Remus. She would walk past Madame Puddifoot's, think of tea, think of drinking tea, and think of drinking tea with Remus. She would eat in the Three Broomsticks, think of the bangers and mash, and think of the breakfast Remus had made her one morning. It was more abstract than that as well – once she had tripped over one of Aberforth's goats, and it made her think of farms, which made her think of other farm animals, which made her think of sheep, which made her think of wool, which made her think of knitting, which made her think what colour jumper would Molly knit for Remus this Christmas…

She was pathetic. But she was also in love. The two clearly went hand in hand.

She honestly didn't know which was better – days with nothing to do, so her mind would of course be filled with thoughts of him, or days with battles to fight. The Dementors were the worst. In a situation where she really couldn't afford any distractions, she was _forced_ to think of him, of being happy with him, in order to conjure up her Patronus.

How could someone that made her so miserable simultaneously hold the keys to her happiest moments?

It was a bloody paradox, and she had no time for those. Especially since she already spent most of her time wondering how a Dementor could steal her soul when it was already so far away, in the possession of a man who couldn't seem to accept that he had it.

* * *

Well, while Tonks has her constant reminders of Remus, I could probably use some constant reminders to get back to my writing! Apologies for taking a while to update… But hey, I always say that reviews do wonders for motivation! ;) I hope I've still got some readers out there, and I hope you're still enjoying this. 

Toodles,

- ish -


	32. Dreams

**  
Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Dreams…_

He'd had nightmares before. Years ago, after he had been bitten, they had plagued him. He would be running through the forest, being chased by a great beast breathing down the back of his neck… Each time he would wake just before the teeth grazed him, only to enter the world where he had been bitten already. Returning to that state of consciousness really wasn't much better – he was still somebody (some_thing_) different in a society that shunned his kind.

He'd had dreams before. As he grew he wanted nothing more than to attend Hogwarts, and it had miraculously managed come true for him. It had been better than he had imagined, for he even made the best of friends along the way – although he couldn't help but think that one day he would wake up and they would simply disappear.

He'd had nightmares before. Ones where he would wake up and find that all his friends were gone, that they all weren't what he had thought… He had been so sure that it must have been a dream, until he never woke up from it.

He'd had dreams before. After years of loneliness, to finally have a job at the place that had been most like home to him? To have the chance to see his old friend's son, to talk to him, to teach him? It was something he'd never forget.

He'd had nightmares before. Learning that the murderer and the martyr were not the ones he had thought, that Voldemort had risen once again, that another war had begun… Who would he lose this time around?

He'd had dreams before. Images of a glowing pink-haired girl flitted through his mind, and he felt sure they had to be mere illusions – what else could explain the fact that she had kissed him, said she wanted to be with him… _loved_ him, even? It was the one dream he wished he could have remained in forever.

He'd had nightmares before. He had often wondered what his life would have been like if it hadn't been for the kindness of people like Dumbledore and the Marauders. Deep in the wilderness, surrounded by the stench of dirt and death and decay, huddling around a fire to keep warm and living under the thumb of a madman… his mission with the pack showed him what his reality would have been.

He'd had dreams before, and he'd had nightmares before, but they had never blended together quite like this. He endured the horrors with the ferals while fantasizing about pink hair and soft skin and adorable clumsiness, then he'd somehow fall asleep on the rough ground and continue with his dreams, only to wake up to the terrors of pack life again in the morning. Was he even waking up anymore? Surely he was still stuck in his mind, with all the fears and desires his brain could create coming to the surface… He wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore.

He'd had dreams before – dreams of his bright-eyed love that he had never wanted to wake up from.

He'd had nightmares before – and now, here with his kind, he was living them.

* * *

Hmm, this was a bit of a stylistic departure for me. It came to me while I was falling asleep, actually – so let me know if I was dreaming or not when I thought this would work… ;)

Toodles,

- ish -


	33. Boggarts

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Boggarts…_

"Molly, I feel like I'm drinking you out of house and home!" Tonks protested as the Weasley matriarch poured her yet another cup of tea.

"Nonsense, dear," Molly replied, as she snuck a treacle tart onto her plate as well. "You know I enjoy having the company."

Both women knew there was more to it than that, but neither said anything. Besides, Tonks did desperately need to get out of Hogsmeade for a while; patrolling the streets over and over again left her all too much time to think. Or perhaps 'obsess' was a better term...

At least now, along with the tea and sympathy, she had the opportunity to _talk_ about her obsessive worrying. Surely that was better than bottling everything up? At least, that was what she told herself.

Well, there was no use dillydallying around the issue anymore. She'd come to the Burrow with a purpose.

"How is he, Molly? Really?" she asked.

There was no need to ask for clarification as to which 'he' she was referring to. "Didn't he come to see you over Christmas?" Molly questioned with a frown.

"He did," Tonks nodded slowly. "But… Well, you know him. He wouldn't really tell me much about his mission – so I don't worry, he said, although I've been doing nothing _but _worry… I just – I suppose I came to find out if he said anything more to you, while he was here."

"I understand," Molly said, sipping her tea thoughtfully as she tried to decide what to say. Finally she set her cup down and asked, "Have you run into any boggarts recently?"

The Auror blinked. "Pardon?"

"Yes, somewhat of a non sequitur, I know," she couldn't help but chuckle. "Remus did the exact same thing with me. I was talking to him about your Patronus changing, and out of the blue he brought up boggarts."

He had mentioned her Patronus change to her already, when he had (all too briefly) dropped by, so that wasn't news to her. However, Tonks couldn't pretend to understand what boggarts had to do with anything, and she said so.

"He told me that he'd met a boggart recently, and the form it usually took for him had changed. It used to be the full moon, of course – but now it's you," Molly gently revealed.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Well, to be more specific, you dead from a werewolf attack," she winced, clearly not wanting to think of such dreadful things. "The poor dear, what a shock that must have been for him…"

Tonks gaped for a few seconds before crying, "Molly, this is _awful_! He'll just use that as proof that he's 'too dangerous'!"

"Oh, believe me, he tried. I had none of it, of course," she sniffed, shaking her head. "But what I told him, and what I'm trying to tell you now, is that really, it's progress!"

By this point, Tonks was completely baffled. "Progress? How is that progress?"

Reaching across the table, Molly laid a comforting hand on Tonks'. "A person's fears can tell you a lot about them. In fact, sometimes fears can be much more honest than anything else… They're that much harder to hide, you see."

Tonks thought about her words for a few minutes, turning them over in her head. The thing that Remus feared the most in the world was her being hurt…

His greatest fear had changed from being about himself to being about another – about _her_.

The last thing she wanted was to wish that sort of pain upon him, but at the same time she couldn't stop her heart from swelling with hope. That was love, wasn't it? He still loved her…

"Maybe that is progress," Tonks wondered quietly. "But somehow I doubt he'll see it that way."

"You know Remus," Molly sighed, although it was filled with an exasperated affection. "As clever as that man is, he can be astoundingly slow sometimes. I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually… I just hope he won't need the sight of another body to do it."

* * *

Hello all! Sorry for such a long gap between updates, once again. I blame the zillions of little distractions that have come my way… But if it's any consolation, I'll do my best to put my nose to the grindstone and work harder on the full-fledged, multi-chapter fic I've been trying to churn out.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this humble offering! If you drop me a review and let me know, it will of course be muchly appreciated. :D

Toodles,

- ish -


	34. Correspondence

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Correspondence..._

**July 1, 1996** – _A torn piece of parchment was delivered by a rather twitchy owl..._

Dear Nymphadora,

I hate the way things ended between us, and I apologize sincerely for that. However, being here amongst my equals makes it clearer than ever that I made the right decision in letting us go no further, no matter how much it hurt us both. In writing this, I do not mean to give you false hope... I simply wanted to let you know that I have arrived safely and am as fine as I can be – all things considered.

I hope you are well.

- Remus

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**July 2, 1996** – _A pink piece of parchment was carried by a tawny Ministry owl..._

Dear Remus,

Of course I'm not well, you self-sacrificing prat! Do you really expect me to be? I'm certainly not about to go off and find some bloke who "deserves me", as you so "nobly" suggested (and please inflect those words with great sarcasm). I'm _miserable_ and if you felt for me what I felt for you (and _still_ do), then you're the exact same way. I don't care what your daft excuses are – I'll be right here waiting for you to return.

- Tonks

P.S. – And don't think you can get away with _writing_ 'Nymphadora' when I bloody well won't let you _say_ it!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**August 8, 1996** – _A note was scribbled in the margins of used notepaper, then sent off with a barn owl (missing a few feathers)_...

Tonks,

You shouldn't waste your time on me. My experiences here with the pack have made my complete and utter unsuitability even clearer to me – I'm too old, too poor, and too dangerous for you. Please try to see that.

- RJL

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**August 10, 1996** – _Some_ _Ministry stationary was conveyed by a large eagle owl_...

RJL,

You are a complete and utter GIT! I have told you over and over again that you are NOT too old, too poor, or too dangerous. Perhaps you should add deafness to your list of shortcomings as well? I don't care about any of that – I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, _ad infinitum_. Do I have to keep repeating myself, or has it sunk in yet?

- NT

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**December 27, 1996** – _A piece of parchment was delivered by Errol_...

Tonks,

I'm sorry I didn't see you at the Burrow for Christmas. I didn't mean to scare you away from attending. Please don't avoid the Weasley's on my account; they're all rather worried about you.

- RJL

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**December 28, 1996** – _Another piece of parchment_ _was sent back with Errol (looking considerably more harassed)_...

You don't fool me, Lupin. Why do I have a feeling that _they_ weren't the only ones worried and disappointed at not seeing me? If you'd like to, then gather some courage and come see me yourself.

- NT

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**January 14, 1997** – _A quick note was scribbled in the corner of a torn newspaper, delivered in the clutches of a brown owl_...

I just wanted to apologize for what was said the last time we talked, I believe I upset you. It seems I shouldn't have come to see you at all… Perhaps it's better if we don't meet again – less temptation for the both of us.

- RJL

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**January 17, 1997** – _Angry scribbles on parchment were sent via a soon-to-be-retired Ministry owl..._

If you really want to forget about me then maybe you should just bloody well stop writing!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**February 15, 1997** – _A crumpled Valentine's card __(with another's name crossed out and NYMPHADORA penned in bold letters)__ was returned by exhausted Ministry owl (now more than ready for its retirement)..._

Fine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**February 18, 1997** – _A few words scrawled so hard that the parchment nearly ripped were dropped off by a Ministry owl with a surprisingly disdainful expression on its face_...

FINE!!!

P.S. – You're still a self-sacrificing prat.

P.P.S. – I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care…

* * *

Goodness, this chapter has been sitting on my computer for AGES! I wanted to play with a slightly different style than the other drabbles, but I felt something like diary-type entries was overdone - hence this was the result. And I decided that the New Year was an appropriate time to post it – out with the old and in with the new, right?

Anyhoo, a Happy New Year to all – I hope it goes quite well for everybody. Remus' New Years' resolution is to try and be less of a noble prat; Tonks' is to morph fewer neon hair colours that blind people's eyes; how about yours being to leave me a few words? ;)

I have a sinking feeling the upcoming few months will be rather hectic, so I can't make any promises about updates and the like, but fingers crossed, eh? And hey, reviews are always lovely motivating factors! Until next time...

Toodles,

- ish -


	35. Under pressure: an interlude

**A/N:** Dost your eyes deceive you? An update? Why yes, it is! It must be a Giftmas miracle!

* * *

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Under pressure… - a Christmas interlude  
_

He entered the dreary foyer of Grimmauld Place, but instead of the usual dank smell he had been expecting, his nose was pleasantly surprised with the scent of cinnamon and molasses. His first thought was that Molly had sent over some of her delicious buns, and so he followed the scent to the kitchen in anticipation of a treat.

That wasn't what he found when he got there. The only accurate descriptor would be _disaster_. There was flour covering the floor, cracked eggs littering the counter, and even some dough splattered on to the ceiling. He didn't have to see the sheet of burnt crisps on the window sill, the batch of uncooked dough in the sink, or the frustrated Metamorphmagus standing in the middle of it all (with batter in her pink tresses, on top of all that) to deduce what was going on – Nymphadora was attempting to bake again.

"Oh, Dora, what are you doing?" he asked gently, trying to control his amusement. He obviously knew the answer to the question, but he certainly could use an explanation as to why she was still testing her culinary capabilities (or lack thereof) after all of her previous catastrophes.

"I was _trying_ to make gingerbread!" she wailed, clearly at her wit's end. "I _know_ I'm useless in the kitchen, but I was craving them and Molly wrote me out a fool-proof recipe, and even promised to teach me a charm to make the gingerbread men march around throwing gumdrop buttons at each other, and it sounded lovely so I thought I could do it..."

As she ranted on without a breath, Remus glanced over to the counter where the recipe rested, the parchment singed and splattered with Merlin-knew-what. He wondered what Molly could had been thinking, encouraging Tonks at baking (especially after the infamous Brownie Incident at the Burrow last summer!), but knew that the Auror must have bullied her into it.

But none of that really mattered. It appeared nothing irreplaceable had been broken or flambéed or minced, and the main thing was that Tonks was upset, so he strode over and embraced her.

"It's not important," he insisted soothingly, wrapping his arms around her waist (trying to ignore the sticky substance that his sleeve made contact with). "I didn't fall in love with you because of your talents in the kitchen, you know that."

"No, it was my talents in the bedroom that won you over, right?" she winked cheekily at him, and he blushed. But the next second the mischief was wiped off her face and she was upset once more. "I just don't understand it, Remus. I'm good at Potions, so why can't I cook? Theoretically, it's all the same – you measure things, you put them in a cauldron in the correct order, you mix them and all that… So why can I brew your Wolfsbane, and Polyjuice Potion, and Calming Draughts, but I can't bake bloody biscuits?"

"Maybe brewing yourself a Calming Draught before you started baking would help…"

"What was that?" she glared.

"Nothing, nothing at all," he smirked, before deflecting attention away from his ill-timed teasing by maintaining, "It doesn't matter. What you _can_ do is more important than what you can't – I would much prefer proper Wolfsbane over biscuits. Although not taste-wise, of course." Then, as he turned those words over in his head, a silly thought came to mind. "You know… Maybe you just work better under pressure?"

"What do you mean?"

He hadn't been too serious at first, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. "Well, you've never made a mistake with my Wolfsbane, and we both know what the consequences of that could be… The same can be said for you brewing potions for work – it's much too important a cause to make errors. Maybe there need to be dire consequences to shape up your culinary abilities?"

She looked thoughtful at his suggestion. "There may be something to that – but what sort of dire consequences could my food failures have? …Er, aside from me almost burning down the house, of course."

That was a good question – and suddenly, his inner Marauder came up with the reply. Releasing her and taking a step back, Professor Lupin valiantly fought a smirk as he told her, "Well, the gravest thing I can think of is to deprive you of... me."

"What?" she blinked, before his words sunk in. "You _wouldn't_."

"Wouldn't I?" he challenged her, raising a brow. "It's a shame, really – now that you've mentioned it, I was rather looking forward to some gingerbread. But I don't think I'll lay a hand on you until you manage them!"

Tonks narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh really…"

"Really."

Forty minutes later Remus was nibbling the limbs off of the most delicious gingerbread men he had ever tasted, fresh from the oven.

* * *

I know, I know, you don't even have to say it. Shame, shame, _shame_ on me for leaving this fic to fester. I hadn't even realized it'd been almost 2 years until I got a review recently that pointed it out. However! That, and the accompanying guilt, made me trot out this little piece – I figured even though it doesn't necessarily fit in with the order of the drabbles as well as I'd like, you all deserve a holiday treat for sticking around.

Many thanks to all those who have discovered this fic and left me reviews over the past almost-2 years, and to those who have stuck around since the very beginning! I do have a few other plot outlines sitting on my laptop, so this is by no means over and done with. Hopefully a few reviews to let me know how you enjoyed this will act as motivation, eh? So happy holidays to all, and hopefully you'll hear from me again soon!

Toodles,

- ish -


	36. Selfishness

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Selfishness…_

"I'm sorry."

Her voice breaks through the eerie silence on the Hogwarts grounds. Even though there are plenty of mourners milling about, waiting for Dumbledore's funeral to begin, most are not speaking; the quiet feels sacrosanct.

He turns from his spot at the edge of the lake, where he was staring emptily at his reflection. Surprised, he asks, "Pardon? What do you have to feel sorry for?"

Her shoulders are slumped, and she can barely look him in the eyes as she replies, "For the scene I made in the hospital wing the other day. I apologize, it really wasn't the time or the place – but you know I can never keep my mouth shut when I need to. I must have embarrassed you."

"Not at all," he shakes his head. He has to admit that her words were hard to digest after the shock of Dumbledore's demise, but in the sleepless nights that followed, he turned them over and over in his head. "I needed to hear it. And I've been thinking a lot about what you said."

"You have?" she whispers, and in her tone he can hear a mixture of lovelorn hopefulness and despair; the combination wrenches his heart.

"I have," he nods. "I've been thinking about how selfish I was being."

"Oh _no_," she groans, her face falling. "Not this again! I swear, if I have to hear your litany of 'too old, too poor, too dangerous' _one_ more time, I'll –"

"No, no," he interrupts her. "That's not what I'm saying. What I'm getting at is that, when I let you go, I was trying so hard not to be selfish – I thought it was best, rather than tying you to somebody with no prospects..."

She inhales deeply, preparing for an indignant rant in response, so he quickly continues, "But I was wrong – I see that now. I thought I was being unselfish, but in the end I was still only thinking of myself – I didn't want to admit that my leaving would hurt you the way it did."

"I loved you, Remus! How could you think that you leaving wouldn't hurt me?" she cries.

He winces, dropping his head. "I really have no excuse, other than being a blind fool. I don't think I'll be able to apologize enough." And then, taking a deep breath to brace himself, he slowly peeks up at her. "When you say you _loved_ me... Is the past tense accurate?"

She remains silent for a few moments, as if thinking his words over, and he feels like his heart stops while waiting for a reply.

In reality, she doesn't even need to consider her answer.

Trying to maintain a stern expression on her face, the growing spark in her eyes gives her away. "I never was very good at grammar," she slowly smirks, extending her hand towards him. "You're the professor here – you tell me."

He doesn't hesitate in grabbing it – her warm grip feels like a lifeline amid stormy waters, and when he touches her soft skin again, after what feels like ages, he suddenly feels lighter. "I think I'm done telling you what to do and how to feel," he says wryly. "All I know is that, selfish or not, I want to be with you – if you'll still have me?"

"Don't be daft!" she exclaims, before launching herself into his arms with a force so great, he nearly stumbles backwards into the lake. "Isn't that what I've been telling you this whole time?"

"Yes, well – I'm a selfish, blind fool, remember?" he chuckles deprecatingly, burying his face into Tonks' hair and letting out a sigh of relief. "I just had to make sure."

"No more putting yourself down like that, or I'll have to hex you," she murmurs into his chest. "Besides, love isn't selfish."

He opens an eye to peer past rapidly pinkening hair and spies an empty white slab in the background, where Dumbledore's body will soon be laid. "Yes, I believe I'm finally beginning to realize that."

* * *

Happy new year, all! Here I am, trying to start 2011 off right – with an update! How's about you start the new year off with a good deed, and leave me a review? :)

Toodles,

- ish -


	37. Security

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Security…_

"What's my biggest turn-on?" came the question from the other side of the door.

Even though there was nobody around to hear her, he couldn't help but blush. "Really, Tonks? _That's_ the security question you choose to ask?"

He knew this was coming; ever since Order members began confirming their identities when meeting each other, she had taken to the security protocol with zeal – mainly because she loved choosing wholly inappropriate and embarrassing questions.

"You know, your refusal to answer is only making me more suspicious!" she called out with a lilting tone. "Are you sure you're the real Remus Lupin?"

"For Merlin's sake... Fine!" he ground out, before looking up and down the hallway to make sure once again that there was no one listening in. "...You like it when I nibble your ear. Happy now?"

"Wotcher, luv!" she chirped, opening the door to her flat and pulling him inside. "And to answer your question, I think I'd actually be happier if you were nibbling on my ear right now."

"I don't think I shall, in protest," he mock-threatened, but was unable to stop himself from leaning down and giving her a peck on the lips in greeting. Then he pulled away slightly and sighed, "Must you ask such private questions whenever you're corroborating my identity?"

"It's _because_ they're private that they're exactly what I _should_ be asking!" she retorted with her hands on her hips. "Death Eaters aren't going to know what I told you after the first time we slept together, or when I first saw you naked, or what your wildest fantasy is!"

He winced at the memory of her having asked those questions. "No, I should hope not. But you know, there _is_ a difference between private and intimate!"

"I stand by my reasoning."

"You just like to see me flustered, don't you?" he sighed, fully aware he was unlikely to win this argument.

"Well, I can't deny that," she admitted with a shrug. "It's a rather attractive look on you."

"One day these sorts of questions will backfire on you..." he warned, although internally, he had his doubts that anything would really embarrass Tonks enough to get her to stop.

She obviously agreed, as she merely smirked and said, "Until then, I think I rather like seeing you blush."

The questions did indeed continue afterwards, and he had given up hope that she would receive a taste of her own medicine, when one day from inside her flat she hollered, "Where in the Weasley house did we have a shag?"

"Oh, good Godric," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Tonks, please, _any_ other question but that?"

"Come on now, Remus!"

"...In the pantry," he gritted out reluctantly.

"See, was that so... hard?" she laughed as she threw open the door, only to trail off in horror.

The only redeeming moment for him was watching the look on Tonks' face as she realized that standing beside him was none other than a scandalized Molly Weasley. Perhaps she would learn that lesson after all...

* * *

Tee hee! This was a fun one. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! ;)

Toodles,

- ish -


	38. Moving

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Moving…_

They're moving in together.

To be honest, it was about time – after all, they are now husband and wife, and don't most married couples live together? Yet despite that fact, it feels like a more monumental step forward in their relationship than even their marriage was. Standing up and declaring their vows in front of their closest friends and family didn't faze them whatsoever – yet it is the issue of cohabitation that brings out their nerves.

She worries about how silly her tattered magazines and dog-eared romance novels will look next to his thick and musty scholarly tomes.

He worries how his gray and shabby wardrobe will look mixed together with the virtual rainbow in her closet.

She worries if her chronic inability to wash dishes without breaking them will drive him crazy.

He worries if his compulsive need to read the newspaper from cover to cover every morning will drive her barmy.

She worries that her penchant for long showers will mean no hot water left over for him.

He worries that his small bed won't be able to house the dozens of pillows she liked to sleep with.

They never voice their fears to each other, but it turns out not to matter.

Their books all fit on the shelves together, and there is room in the closet for both of their wardrobes. New routines emerge, as he takes over dish-washing duty and she begins to read the newspaper along with him. They shower together to save the hot water, and she begins to use him as a replacement pillow instead.

Their things crammed together in Remus' small cottage may seem cluttered to some, but to them it is barely noticeable. To Tonks, a place has never felt cosier. To Remus, his house has never felt more like a home.

* * *

A bit short? Yes, perhaps – or perhaps it's just to the point? Lol.

Anyhoo, if you have a moment, please leave a review! I love hearing from you all. Besides, I believe this fic will be wrapping up soon, so you may want to send me your thoughts while you still can!

Toodles,

- ish -


	39. Blankets

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Blankets…_

The couch was changing shape. Looking carefully at it, he could see where the cushions had slowly but surely begun to mould themselves to his body.

It was really no surprise; after all, he had been sleeping there ever since he had returned to Tonks, begging for forgiveness. Said forgiveness had not been fully granted, as of yet – not that he had expected it.

He understood her reluctance to readmit him into her life, as if they had never been apart – not when she was unsure he wouldn't just leave once more when the situation became dire. _He_ knew he would never be able to tear himself away again – thinking back to the utter despair in her eyes, or watching her stomach grow every day only solidified that feeling – but he still had to prove that to her.

And so he slept on the couch.

He was uncertain whether his banishment to the proverbial doghouse was a test to see how much discomfort he could withstand, or if it was simply a bit of revenge on her part. It didn't really matter to him – he felt he deserved it.

The couch was too short for his lanky frame and the blanket he was using wasn't long enough to fully cover his feet, but he took it in stride. He wasn't going anywhere... except perhaps to request another pillow.

As he stood in the doorway of the bedroom they used to share (after respectfully knocking first), he noticed there were many more blankets on the bed than there used to be.

"It feels a lot colder at night without you there to keep me warm," Tonks murmured, almost reluctantly, as she handed him a pillow.

He took it from her carefully, gently brushing her fingers with his as he did so. Wanting nothing more than to offer himself to her for his body heat, he quelled the urge – pushing her would accomplish nothing.

Instead he quietly offered, "Would you like me to cast some extra-strength warming charms for you?"

He started casting them for her every night. Soon, they began to be accompanied by a chaste, albeit longing, goodnight kiss on the forehead. Those kisses then migrated down to the cheek, and finally to the lips.

And over time, the number of blankets on the bed began to dwindle.

Finally, one night she told him she no longer needed the warming charms. He felt a crushing disappointment for a fleeting moment, until he glanced over at the bed – the last thick quilt was removed, the sheets were freshly changed, and a pile of pillows was back on his side.

That night all they needed was their own body heat. Remus had never slept better, and that fact had nothing to do with not being on the couch.

* * *

Hmm, if it was a choice between a warming charm and Remus Lupin's body heat, I think I know which I'd choose! How about you?

Anyhoo, as usual, I hope you all enjoyed this latest update. I believe the next chapter will be the _**last**_ one – yes, that's right, Strangeways is finally wrapping up! So until then...

Toodles,

- ish -


	40. Expecting

**Strangeways, Here We Come**

_Expecting…_

There was quite a distinction between expecting something to happen and reaching the inevitable moment when it finally occurred.

Theoretically, he knew it was coming (then again, how could he not?). He had had plenty of time to plan for the occasion (even though his initial reactions had admittedly been less than stellar). He had even begun to feel eagerly impatient (although he now knew better than to mention such a thing to his wife, who so eloquently had pointed out, "_You're_ bloody impatient? How do you think I feel? I look like I swallowed a troll!").

However, those abstract expectations still failed to adequately prepare him for the real thing, because when Tonks waddled into the kitchen one spring morning and without ceremony announced, "Remus, I think my water just broke", he dropped the cup of tea he'd been holding.

The teacup smashed onto the floor and he looked down at his suddenly soaking feet in surprise. Then, he glanced back up at his wife. And then back down to the tea.

He was slowly trying to process how exactly to react when Andromeda called out from the other room, "What did you break this time, Nymphadora?"

"My water, Mum!" she shouted back.

"Oh, well, just clean up the spill and _Reparo_ the cup as best you can, dear..."

"No, Mum, _my water broke_!" she yelled back in exasperation. "And I think I broke Remus too, while I was at it."

It was only after Andromeda dashed into the room and both women were eyeing him confusedly that he snapped out of his stupor.

"The baby's coming?" he asked dopily.

"That's usually what a woman's water breaking indicates, yes," the older witch responded dryly, before putting her arms around her daughter and ushering her away. "Now, let's get Nymphadora upstairs, shall we?"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course," he practically shouted, before following the pair up the stairs with his arms stretched out at the ready, prepared to catch Tonks should she trip.

Once she was situated comfortably (or as comfortably as she could be, considering the circumstances) in bed, he frantically asked, "Is there anything you need, love? Another blanket? Extra pillows? Some tea? I could go downstairs and try to brew you a Calming Draught, or –"

"I'm fine," she insisted, patting his hand. "Although a Calming Draught sounds like a good idea right about now."

"Really?"

"Yes. For you."

That shut him up for a bit. He tried his best to control his panic, although slow breathing, pacing, and copious amounts of tea drinking did not seem to help much on that count.

It was the waiting that got to him. Hypothetically preparing for the miracle of life was one thing, but now that it was imminent? ...Perhaps he should have attempted that Calming Draught after all.

Months of expectation were now being compressed into a few impatient hours; and then suddenly they were condensed into an intense few minutes. Before Remus could fully comprehend what had just happened, his wife was crying tears of joy, and he was staring down in amazement at the tiny body bundled in her arms.

His _son_.

Yes, it was one thing to expect something in the abstract; but now Remus finally realized that all that anticipation, fear, excitement, and even dread, was _nothing_ compared to the joyous reality.

* * *

And that is it, ladies and jellybeans – the end of _Strangeways_. Some of you might be disappointed that I'm stopping it here, but I like things to wrap up on a pleasant note, and well... if you recall the ending of _Deathly Hallows_ (which I've quite happily repressed), things didn't go so well for our favourite pair (although I think denial is a lovely thing – they were just taking a nap, dammit!). This way, I figure sticklers for canon already know how things 'officially' end, while those who prefer to imagine a better (and methinks a more _deserving_) fate can do so at their leisure.

Anyhoo, I thought it was fitting that I posted this final chapter today, as it is exactly 5 years after I posted the very first. I honestly can't believe it's been that long! I'd like to thank everybody who stuck with this fic from the beginning, those who joined it halfway through, and also those who popped in just recently – I wholeheartedly appreciate you taking the time to peruse my inane ramblings. And let's be honest, I would be even _more_ appreciative if you took a few seconds to leave me a review and let me know how you liked it!

To answer a question that I'm sure will be asked, I don't know what the future will hold for me in terms of more fics – let's be honest, I'd love to sit in my pyjamas all day and read and write fanfic, although that may be slightly unrealistic! I'm not ruling more stories out completely, but I'm not making any promises either. So I guess I'll just take this opportunity to once again say _**thanks **_while I still can. It's been delightful. :)

Toodles,

- ish -


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